


Dark Swan Rising

by slow-smiles (the_irish_mayhem)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark One Emma Swan, Ensemble Cast, Evil Emma, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Season/Series 05, The season five we deserved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/pseuds/slow-smiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One is reincarnated in Storybrooke as Emma Swan and heralds a twisted game none of the heroes wish to play. As they race to save Emma, the heroes face dire repercussions of past actions and the wrath of the Savior gone dark. Snow and Charming encounter unforeseen consequences of sharing a heart as Regina and Robin are forced to examine their relationship when Zelena’s pregnancy comes between them. Killian must learn to face his demons alone when the woman he loves is no longer there to tether him to the light, and Henry finds himself thrust into a hero role he is not ready to accept. Belle is torn between her heart and her logic as Rumplestiltsken clings to life without his magic and an old friend returns to Storybrooke. In the shadows, a threat greater than any they have yet faced has awoken.</p><p>A (somewhat) rewrite of 5A in four parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dark Swan

**Author's Note:**

> There were a lot of things I wish had been done differently in 5A. Here’s my solution (plus a few things that I knew were never going to happen.)
> 
> CS, OQ centric, some Red Beauty, and background Snowing . Not Rumbelle or Swanfire friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for flashbacks to child abuse.

There’s a moment of intense quiet.

Emma’s never realized it, but she’s never truly heard silence before. There was always something. The murmur of other kids through the walls of the homes. The occasional shouts of troubled foster parents from downstairs. The sound of cars outside. The first apartment she’d ever had was next to the train tracks and right under the power lines. The quiet hum of life running around her, moving so quickly it didn’t even stop to notice that it was trampling someone beneath it.

Then it starts.

“It’s a miracle baby.”

“We didn’t think we could ever have kids of our own. That’s why you lived with us. Sometimes families just can’t have more than one.”

“What was that? What the fuck was that?”

“You let her do this?”

“Did it all on her own.”

“This’ll teach you to disrespect my property, disrespect the house you live in.”

\--beating her fists against the trunk--

Harris. Johnson. Marsden. St. Kate’s Home. Hanson. Keller. Angel Home for Children.

“--disciplinary issues--”

“--can’t keep her, I’m--”

“--much to handle--”

“--not what we wanted when we signed up to foster--”

“Ms. Swan, do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? Stealing is not something to be taken lightly.”

Crack. Flicker. Burn. Shatter.

“It's like my whole life is darkness and... When you're around, things are brighter.”

Ingrid smiling, we’re gonna be a family.

All wrong. Lies.

“Stop the car, Emma.”

Run. _Run._

“Tallahassee, baby.”

“Almost home.”

Burn. Flicker.

“It’s a boy, Emma.”

I can’t be a mother.

_Tennent: Rent is three months overdue. The terms of the lease clearly state eviction after three months of no payments._

The burn of a flashlight through her back window. “Miss, you can’t sleep here.”

The shattered front windshield of the bug.

“Whore!”

“Don’t mistake this as an invitation back into his life.”

You’re the Savior, Emma. Bring back the happy endings, Emma. It’s your destiny, Emma. It’s your responsibility, Emma.

Henry collapsing, and everything is real.

“If I’d known who you were, I never would’ve gone near you.”

Neal. Henry.

He knows, he doesn’t tell.

“Neal is alive.”

“It’s not what I wanted.”

Thundering cloud heralding grief and forgetting and “Happy endings aren’t always what we think they will be.”

Walsh isn't real, they weren't real, she loved him, she _loved_ \--

Killian, come back to me.

“Prince Neal.”

Elsa smiling. Elsa leaving. Like everyone else.

They lied. They’ve been lying about everything. They made her forgive them because that’s what she’s supposed to do but they _lied._

Then Emma’s thirty again, telling Killian she loves him before taking the Darkness and letting it sweep over her, cloying and heavy and tempting.

And there it is. The darkness. Slotting itself in next to her light magic, pushing it aside and filling her veins with unabashed power. Unabashed courage and determination and the startling feeling of selfishness and the darkness pushing her to revel in her hurts, to sink into her anger and bitterness that she’s pushed down for _so long_ and use it. She’s earned the right to be bitter and harsh and angry, and damn anyone for making her think otherwise.

It’s like the snipping of strings, one by one. Sweet release from the baggage each memory placed on her soul, replaced by this fiery anger that she’s never allowed herself to feel.

And she is afraid.

_We’ve been waiting for you, Emma Swan._

She screams.

* * *

The dagger falls, the sound of it striking the pavement loud and sharp.

Regina flinches, holding tighter to Robin’s arm. If she holds tight enough, she won’t start shaking. If she gets angry enough, she won’t feel sad.

“Where is she?” Snow White’s voice is thready and thick. A mother who has just lost her child.

_Again._

_Because of me._

Regina swallows hard. Snow’s eyes turn to Regina, seeking something, and suddenly Regina is thrown backwards in time, when Snow was a young girl and looked at Regina like she had all the answers.

“I--I don’t know.” Regina can’t fix this. She should’ve done something, tried something _else_ \--

The pirate looks shell shocked in the worst of ways, and he takes a tentative step forward towards the dagger before he halts again. “We can call her to us,” he says quietly. “If she’s in this realm, we can call her to us.”

No one volunteers to do it.

They stare blankly at one another, the tension thick and ebbing when mere minutes ago there was none. There was joy and happiness and celebration and Regina thought that maybe this could be--

It doesn’t matter what she thought. It doesn’t matter what she hoped. What matters is what’s in front of them.

David is the one to break their line, the one to stride without fear towards the dagger that now bears his daughter’s name on the blade. (No, because without fear, there can be no courage… There’s a reason Zelena wanted his bravery above all others.)

Regina watches as he bends to take the dagger in his hand. He handles it as though it is sticky, covered in some substance he does not wish to touch for too long.

“Emma, I command you to appear,” he calls out.

Nothing happens. The road remains empty.

Hook curses under his breath before he speaks up again, “You might have to--” She sees his jaw clench, his hands fisted hard at his sides. David eyes him in desperation. He finishes, “Call her the Dark One.”

David tries again. “Dark One… I command you to appear.”

A horrendously loud sound of tearing blasts through the street, and David stumbles backwards into the steadying hand of Snow as Emma appears in a great burst of swirling black and white smoke. It crackles with static and Regina has the oddest sense of being pulled in two directions until it dissipates.

She looks more or less the same. Although instead of standing heroic in the face of the greatest darkness in all the realms, she’s collapsed onto her knees, completely curled in on herself. Her clothing is filthy, as if she was dragged through dirt, and her blonde hair looks wild, snarled, and unkempt. It completely shrouds her face. She’s visually quivering, shaking as though she were freezing, and her arms are wrapped around herself.

Killian approaches her with some caution, but little hesitance. “Emma,” she hears him say, so gently and quietly Regina isn’t sure she heard it in the first place.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Emma Swan.”

That’s not Emma’s voice. It’s almost a multiplicity of voices, all combined into one genderless, haunting, dark essence that slides down Regina’s spine in the worst way.

Then she screams, and her magic explodes.

They are hit by one of the most powerful blasts of dark magic Regina has ever felt in her life. More powerful than Zelena. Than Cora. Than Rumplestiltsken himself. They’re all hurled backwards by the wave of dark black and purple made of fear and rage that Regina can feel so potently she very nearly awakens her own dark magic in response.

She loses her grip on Robin and feels a flash of panic before she hits the ground hard, her head snapping backwards and her elbows and knees scraping painfully as she tumbles and skids to a stop.

She can hear the sound of car alarms going off, thinks she feels the crunch of broken glass beneath her back, and wonders as the world starts going gray what exactly it is about her that seems to breed misfortune.

* * *

_Open our eyes, Emma Swan. See what we’ve done._

The voice sounds gleeful, proud.

She doesn’t know when she became aware of her body again, but suddenly she can feel _everything_. Her arms curled into her chest and her knees pressed into the ground. The rush of magic over her skin (but it’s different now. Dark. Cloying. Rich. Thick. Powerful. God, so much power.) she can feel the ebb and flow of the magic all around her in a way she never could before. She can feel the latticework of the curse holding the town together, tethering it to a world it doesn’t belong in. Everything is loud in a way it’s never been, even though she’s fairly certain there’s no noise at all.

She opens her eyes and looks up, and everything quiets.

She doesn’t see the damage. Every window within a twenty yard radius is blown out. Car windshields and front hoods are caved in. The car alarms blare, but she barely registers them.

“No,” she whispers.

What she sees in stunning clarity is her mother and father, hurled twenty feet away from her and lying completely motionless. Regina lying in a spray of shattered glass next to the car whose windshield Robin was nearly thrown through. And Killian.

She sees the alternate book all over again, watches him die in the street for her and her family and he was dead, she had seen it, but this isn’t the book and he’s not moving--

“Mom!”

Oh god, she can’t hurt him too.

Henry races down the street, worry in his voice and the determination of a hero in his stride. He slows to check on their family.

 _The truest believer,_ the voice hisses in her head, _an Author of great power. We could use him._

She stumbles to her feet, nearly tripping backwards in her haste to get away from her son.

Magic, dark magic, crackles in her hands, but she will not hurt her son, too. The magic is building, aching for an outlet, and she can sense the power in Henry, different from her magic or Regina’s, but it’s power and something in her wants it, wants to reach out and hold him, wants to reach out and corrupt--

Her eyes slam shut, her hands clenching into tight fists. “No!” she growls. “I can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Mom,” Henry tries again, and her eyes snap open. He’s approaching slower now. “Everyone’s fine. They’re just knocked out. You didn’t hurt anyone, and you won’t.”

He might say that, but he doesn’t feel the power in her veins, doesn’t hear the voice in her head. “Please, just… just stay right there. I can’t control it, Henry,” she says.

Henry doesn’t stop. Why didn’t he stop? _See_ , the voice croons, _the Author wants us._

“You won’t hurt me--”

“Henry!” she snaps, and her magic courses through her fingertips, crushing the hoods of the cars in even further. The car alarms suddenly cease.

She gasps, folding her hands underneath her arms as though that might somehow stifle the uncontrollable power flowing through her. She remembers what it was like to lose control of her magic before.

This isn’t like that.

She then realizes that they’re not alone. Many Storybrooke residents have come out to see what the commotion is about, and Emma can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“We’ve been down this road,” she tells Henry shakily. “I’ve hurt you before, and I’m not sure that I won’t do it again. So please, _please_ just stay away from me.”

She moves on instinct as she flicks her wrist and is engulfed in black and white smoke as she teleports herself as far away from everyone she loves as she can get.

* * *

Moments after Emma disappears, her family begins to come to.

Snow’s body aches, but otherwise, she feels just fine. She pulls herself into a seated position, spying her husband lying not far away. He seems to be coming back to himself as well, and she moves to his side. “David? David, are you okay?”

He nods, wincing as he does so. “I’m fine. My head hurts a bit, but I’m fine.” She helps him sit up, and they assist each other to stand. He still has the dagger in his hand, and he sheaths it somewhere in his coat.

Snow turns to see the condition of everyone else.

Regina is checking on Robin, who is gingerly removing himself from a car windshield, and Killian is already standing and talking to--

“Henry!” Snow cries, and moves quickly to check on her grandson.

“I’m fine, Grandma,” he says, answering her unasked question. “I didn’t come out until after she…”

“What the bloody hell was that?” asks a distraught Robin who leans heavily on Regina.

“That’s the Dark One,” Killian answers tightly. Snow feels compelled to hug him, but she’s hardly emotionally stable enough to offer comfort to anyone else right now. “I’d heard stories about the transformation in my travels, but I had no way to confirm them until now.”

Regina asks, “Does that mean…” Snow watches as Regina’s hands fidget so slightly. “Does that mean we can’t save her?”

“I don’t know,” Killian answers. “What I do know is that she didn’t look any different from when we last saw her. That might mean that the transformation is not yet complete, and it could be possible to stop it.”

“We can,” Henry says, determination and bravery written on his face. Snow wishes she could feel pride in that moment, something other than the gaping emptiness she’s felt since Emma looked at her with tears in her eyes and told them that they’d have to remove the darkness from her again. “She said she was afraid to hurt us. She lost control of her magic before, and she figured that out. We can help her do that again.”

“Your optimism is appreciated,” Hook says, “but I’m afraid the Dark One curse is a much more dangerous beast than light magic.”

“He’s right,” Regina says. “Gold is living proof that you can’t live with the Dark One curse. We have to find some way to destroy it.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” Robin asks. “Because my entire body isn’t liking the idea of going near her again if what we just saw is the result.”

“Even if we don’t know how to save her yet,” Snow says, “We can’t just leave her to deal with this on her own.”

“But we can’t go chasing after her either,” Regina points out. “If that blast of magic was any indication, she’s far more powerful and even less in control.”

“The magic blocking cuff,” Henry suggests suddenly. “Maybe she’ll agree to put it on.”

Hook says, “Excellent idea, lad, but without the cuff, how can we contain the Wicked Witch?”

“Pandora’s box,” Henry answers without missing a beat, “I know Grandpa still has it in the shop. We can use that to trap Zelena until we help Mom.”

“It won’t hurt the baby will it?” Robin asks.

Regina replies, “No. Pandora’s box traps the prisoner in a contained moment of time. The child won’t be harmed.”

It’s the spectre of a plan, and certainly not a bad one.

A few silent moments pass, and Snow realizes that they’re all still standing in the middle of the street. _Waiting for direction._ It had been easy to forget delegation when Emma was always there to lead them, when Emma would unflinchingly make decisions for the group.

It’s just another thing that drives home the fact that her daughter is gone, and it punches Snow in the gut once more. She tries to remind herself that she was a leader, once. A princess, an army commander, a queen. When she tries to summon up that person, though, she fails. Because at the end of the day, she’s right back where she started: a mother whose daughter has to be sacrificed for the greater good.

Regina’s voice disrupts her thoughts. “Well, we’re not going to do Emma any good standing around. Robin and I can go to Gold’s shop to get Pandora’s box.”

“I’m coming with you,” Henry insists.

“Henry--” Regina tries.

“No, she’s my Mom. I want to help. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Snow can practically hear Regina shout _Yes you are!_ just by the expression on her face. The mother in Snow understands, and wants to send Henry as far away from them as possible to protect him.

“It was his plan,” Hook concedes.

Regina’s burning glare at Hook could have leveled just about anyone, but Hook meets it with unyielding resistance. “Fine," Regina says, "But after we get the box, I’m going to get the cuff from Zelena myself.”

“Whoa, Regina, going after her without backup sounds dangerous,” David says.

“It sounds dangerous because it is, David,” Regina intones flatly.

“Maybe you can take her outside the town line, like we did with Pan,” Snow suggests. “Zelena would be far less dangerous without her magic.”

“No,” Regina says immediately. “I’m not setting foot outside this town while there’s an out of control Dark One on the loose. I can’t take the chance she might cast a spell and trap me out there.”

“She’s still Emma,” Snow insists.

“Maybe, but she’s dangerous. We all saw her. She’s never wielded dark magic before, and you can trust me when I say that the first taste makes you do unspeakable things.” Regina gathers herself for a moment and continues, “Once we get the box, Robin and Henry will go to the library. There might be something there that we can use.”

“We should ask Belle for help as well,” Hook suggests. “Aside from myself, no one knows the Dark One curse better.”

Regina nods, taking in the information and organizing the plan around it. Snow is tempted to feel pride again because this is the Regina she’d looked up to as a child, now older and wiser, and an almost unparalleled leader. “Okay, you go to the library first. Get a head start, and Robin and Henry will bring Belle with them and meet you there.”

Regina then turns to Snow and David. “Start looking for Emma. If you find her, be careful. We don’t know how much control she has over her own actions. We’ll use the library as a rendezvous point.”

Regina meets Snow’s eye with a determination that Snow just knows is meant just for her. It is the determination of a friend, of a fellow mother, of someone who wants her to know that _I will fix this for you_.

“Let’s save Emma,” Snow says, nodding in affirmation at Regina.

The group disperses until it’s just Snow, Charming, and Hook lingering. Snow and David are turning to leave when Hook’s hesitant voice stops them. “I--I’d rather come with you, if it’s all the same.”

They turn back, and Snow’s breath catches. Hook had seemed to be holding it together rather well while they were strategizing, but now… now he looks more broken than she’s ever seen him. It’s a vulnerability that Snow’s never seen on the reformed pirate, and she goes with her first instinct and lets go of David to wrap him in a hug. He seems startled by it and only reluctantly returns it for a moment before Snow pulls back. She leaves a hand on his shoulder and squeezes tenderly.

“If she comes back, we need you here. I know Regina’s going to try to keep Henry as far away from her as possible, and we need someone here who we know can get through to her,” Snow tells him.

Hook swallows heavily, and nods wordlessly as Snow pulls away.

“We’ll get her back,” David assures, imparting Hook with an affectionate grasp on his bicep. “We’ve done it before,” he adds wryly. “This family has a bit of a tradition of finding each other.”

“I’ve heard many a time,” Hook says quietly. His voice is rough and far from steady, but then he straightens and it’s almost like watching a different person step out from behind a curtain how quickly he shifts from vulnerable to confident. “Optimism. One of the many benefits of being a hero, no doubt.” Before he turns to walk away, he says, “You should get to your search. The dirt on her clothing looked too dark to be from the forest, so if I were you, I would start in the mines. Godspeed.”

Snow and Charming watch him go for a moment before they turn to each other. “She found us while we were cursed,” Snow says. “Time to return the favor.

* * *

Regina isn’t sure what to expect from a Rumplestiltsken free of the Dark One curse, but whatever image she’d been building in her mind is shriveled and confused when she looks upon the scene before her.

A completely comatose Mr. Gold prompts Henry to ask, “What’s wrong with him?”

Belle sighs. “I don’t know. I called the fairies, they’re going to come take a look at him to see if there’s anything they can’t do. He’s still breathing, but he’s just… not waking up. I think it has something to do with losing the Dark Curse the way he did, but I...” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter right now. What can I help you with?”

They quickly catch Belle up on their situation, and bring her in on the plan. When she hears what Emma did to save all of them, Belle gasps, her hand coming up to cover her mouth (but Regina can’t help but feel a pang that Emma did it for her. _You’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed._ She sure doesn’t feel like she deserved that much.)

“Is Killian going to be in the library?” she asks. When Regina answers the affirmative, Belle says resolutely, “Good. He shouldn’t be alone right now. As soon as I get Pandora’s box, I’ll head over there. It’s just in the back.”

Belle returns moments later, the intricate box in her hands.

Regina takes it from Belle and sighs. “Time to go deal with my sister. That’s always fun. Henry, go with Belle and Robin to the library. I’ll meet you all there when I’m finished.”

Belle and Henry move towards the shop door, and Regina goes to follow them until Robin gently draws her aside. “I’d like to go with you,” he murmurs, “to make sure you stay safe.”

She shakes her head. “She’ll just try to use you against me. And I’m sick and tired of seeing you suffer because of me.”

“What happened to me is not your fault,” Robin assures. “Zelena is the only one who should shoulder that blame.”

“The only reason she’s interested in tormenting you is because it torments me. There’s plenty of reason for me to be guilty about that.”

“Regina, I know how self-sacrificial you can be, and I don’t want to make you face her alone--”

“And I don’t want to make you face her at all. I’m doing this by myself,” she finishes, tone brooking no room for argument. She turns and leaves. She can hear Robin following her out, but she trusts that he won’t follow her further.

He would never say as much, but Regina is quite certain he’s glad she insisted on going without him.

* * *

The scrape of her boots against the stone of the town’s extensive cave system is the only sound that accompanies her labored breathing and the voice in her head.

Seeing what she’d done to everyone she loved--

 _It pleases us,_ it hisses.

“No,” she whispers,

 _You are nothing to them,_ the voice says. _You are their Savior. They don’t want Emma Swan, not the way we do._ She stumbles out onto the beach where Anna and Kristoff washed up on shore, and she collapses in the freezing surf.

She buries her sparking hands in the water, hoping that the shocking cold will dull the torrent of heat coursing through her.

Because she doesn’t want to listen to what the voice is saying, she doesn’t want to feel everything she’s never allowed herself to feel.

 _Your parents name their child after the one who betrayed you and hurt you, and they never cared to ask. Your parents don’t want you, they want him. He’s what they wanted, isn’t he? You’re just their burden, the child that is theirs but isn’t theirs,_ it says, and she doesn’t agree, she doesn’t agree, _she doesn’t agree._

_They who put you in a wardrobe for the greater good. That’s all you are to them, Emma Swan. You are their sacrifice for the greater good._

“No,” she says weakly, her body shivering in the water but the heat still blazing in her heart. “No, they love me.”

_Then why do they never ask? Why do they never ask about your life before them? You want them to, Emma Swan; we can feel it. But they never do._

_Would you like to know why?_

“Please stop,” she whispers into the uncaring waves lapping at her thighs.

_You already know why, yet you refuse to admit it. You should say it, Emma Swan._

“They’re my family,” she says. “They’re my _family_. They are everything I’ve been waiting for all my life.”

_And yet, look where you are. Look at what you’ve given them. What have they given you?_

“That’s not--”

Her magic is building, increasing with every small thing the voice says. She’s trying not to let it in, because she’s supposed to be good, she’s the Savior, (she never asked--) but she’s… she’s supposed… She’s supposed to bring back the happy endings for everyone, not selfishly claw after hers.

 _Why not? Don’t you deserve it?_ the voice says, and--

_Sometimes families just can’t have more than one._

_Tallahassee, baby. Almost home._

_We’re gonna be a family. Stop the car, Emma._

_It’s a boy, Emma. (You can’t keep him.)_

_It’s not what I wanted. (You’re not what I wanted.)_

_Bring back the happy endings, Emma. (You never asked for this.)_

Her hands are shaking as she breaks.

She screams, and it doesn’t just come from her lungs; it comes from deep within her, something primal and viscerally painful and her magic explodes.

She’s felt power before.

She’s felt it even when she didn’t realize she had it. She remembers feeling it when she pulled the bridge together under her feet, when she fought the snowman, when she helped Regina, when she’s stood near Rumplestiltsken and watched him try to kill--

It’s nothing compared to this.

The sand, the very earth beneath her shakes with a loud groan, the water parts around her in a rush of magic so heady she feels as though she could happily drown in it. The waves grow choppy around her, and rocks from the cliffs above her fall into the sea with a cataclysmic roar.

But above the sound of her destruction, Emma’s scream prevails.

* * *

The trio arrives at the library to find Hook already feverishly combing through the shelves. Henry doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hook this desperate, this directionless before, and it brings a sadness to his heart that he can’t place.

“Killian,” Belle prods, and Hook jerks back into himself when he notices them standing at the entryway.

His eyes quickly find Robin and he says, “I don’t think Snow and Dave are enough of a force looking for Emma. Would it be possible for you to rally your Merry Men to the cause?”

Robin nods. “You’re right. The more eyes we have on the lookout, the better. They also have Roland and I’d rather have them appraised of the situation if they happen across her.” He turns to Henry. “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere unless you’re with someone, and wait for your mother to arrive. I imagine she’ll be along shortly if everything with the Wicked Witch went as planned.”

Henry nods, feeling bad for already planning his escape to help look for his Mom. He can’t just sit around and wait for her. She won’t hurt him, and he knows that she’s stronger than she gives herself credit for. Maybe even stronger than Rumplestiltsken. Maybe she’ll be able to fight it better than he ever did.

Robin claps his shoulder once, smiling tightly at all of them before leaving the library.

Belle and Killian settle into a practiced system, one that Henry clearly has no place in, though they both try to include him. It annoys him deeply that Mom sent him to the library to keep him out of the way. He doesn’t want to be out of the way, he wants to help, and more than anything he knows that he can’t help here.

In a small lull of the research machine that is Hook and Belle, Henry suggests, “Maybe I should go take a look at what’s in Mom’s vault. She has a ton of magic books and stuff down there. I might be able to find something to help us.”

Belle looks at Killian. “That could help,” she says.

“Indeed,” Hook agrees, and Henry begins to grin until Hook says, “but you’re not going alone.”

Henry holds back a groan. There goes the one person he thought would be an ally in this. “I’m not a kid anymore,” he insists.

“While I appreciate your ability to make a plan, your mother’s not wrong when she says it’s dangerous out there.”

“My Mom won’t hurt me.”

“I know she certainly doesn’t want to hurt you,” he concedes, “but the change from human to Dark One can be… drastic. There’s no way we can predict what she might do.”

Henry’s mouth opens to respond, but before he can he’s cut off by the piercing sound of a scream. It doesn’t echo from somewhere, but rather it sounds like it’s coming straight from his own mind.

Belle and Killian must hear it too, because Belle’s hands go up to futilely cover her ears and Killian flinches hard and his eyes squeeze shut.

A series of disorienting images flash before his eyes.

Piercing headlights. A smiling girl he doesn’t recognize. (A swooping feeling of betrayal.) A shattered plate. (A sharp spike of fear.) A garbage bag full of clothes. Prison bars and gray jumpsuits. (The agony of hopelessness.) The sound of crackling electricity and a bright medical lamp shining in his eyes. Flashes of green. He watches himself fall to the ground, a cursed turnover in his hand. Neal. Hook lying on the ground.

It ends several long moments later, abruptly cutting off and sending Henry groping for the nearest steady surface to hold himself up on. The lightheadedness clears quickly, but his ears are still ringing. His confusion is palpable, and is matched by the look on Belle’s face.

Killian, however, has a look of fear. He murmurs brokenly, “Emma,” and runs for the door.

Henry doesn’t hesitate when he follows.

* * *

Regina tells Nurse Ratched to check Zelena’s cell if she isn’t back in five minutes.

The fluorescent bulbs above her glare brightly, the sound of her heels echoing off the stark walls her only accompaniment to her sister’s cell. As she approaches, the sharp clacks of her shoes almost drown out the sound of a muffled voice, but when she halts outside the door there is no doubt about what she is hearing. It’s Zelena’s voice. But it’s… it’s gentle and soothing in a way Regina’s never heard from her sister before. She leans forward, careful to keep out of sight of the small window.

“Would you eat them in a box? Would you eat them with a fox?” The Wicked Witch of the West then pitches her voice lower as she says, “Not in a box. Not with a fox. Not in a house. Not with a mouse.”

Even if Regina hadn’t read _Green Eggs and Ham_ to a young Henry more times than she could count, she would still recognize the dulcet rhymes of the Dr. Seuss classic.

In the back of her mind she starts thinking up an appropriate censure for whoever had disregarded her orders to not give Zelena anything besides her food, and she leans her back against the wall as she adjusts Pandora’s box in her hands.

She studies the cracking ceiling (she should really find some money in the budget to fix that) and listens as Zelena’s voice continues.

She feels a pang that she shouldn’t, so she gets herself angry. This is the woman that deceived Robin in the most despicable way imaginable, who makes it her mission to destroy every small step of progress Regina has made away from who she used to be, who threatens her family and happiness on a regular basis--

Regina steels herself. This is no time for sentimentality or giving Zelena sympathy she doesn’t deserve. Her town is in danger, and Regina will act accordingly.

She tucks Pandora’s box into her coat and enters the room.

Zelena cuts herself off mid-sentence and makes a face as though she smells something rotten. Green Eggs and Ham is open on her lap, her hand holding the pages open. “I neither need nor want you here, sis. I’m all trapped away, just as you’d like me to be.” Zelena smiles, and Regina can easily forget the woman who’d been reading Green Eggs and Ham to her unborn child not moments ago. “However, if your dear Robin is outside, please tell him that I think our child wants it’s daddy.”

Regina grits her teeth against the well-crafted jab, and chooses to not answer. “I need that cuff,” she says instead.

“Ooh, sorry, dear, but you’re the one who insisted on having me without my magic. Unless you’d like for me to have that back, I imagine this is going to stay right where it is.”

Zelena is cocky and clearly gearing up to make another joke about what she did to Robin, so Regina chooses that moment to reveal Pandora’s box. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before,” she says as Zelena’s face falls. “Seems a far more fitting punishment for what you’ve done.”

 _Green Eggs and Ham_ falls out of Zelena’s hands and slaps onto the floor. Her hands curl protectively around her belly. “No,” she says, “You can’t do this to me.”

Regina activates the box, the magic swirling out of it and curling around Zelena’s feet. She flies off the cot in her haste as she tries to run, but there’s nowhere to go in the small cell, and eventually the box begins to pull her in.

“Stop this!” Zelena screeches, all pretenses dropped.

“Don’t want to go in here, sis?” Regina asks, teasing, but her smile drops a moment later. “Well, let’s see how you like doing something against your will.”

It’s only when Zelena has been completely immobilized by the magic pulling her into the box that Regina reaches for her sister’s wrist and tears the cuff off.

Barely a heartbeat later, Pandora’s box engulfs her completely, and traps her within its confines. The magic dissipates and Regina bends over to pick up Zelena’s new prison.

Suddenly, Regina feels another burst of powerful magic (Emma.) and then the screaming begins.

The cuff and the box fall out of her hands as dark magic floods her veins and she sees things even though her eyes are closed against the temptation to lash out, to awaken dark parts of herself that she always tries to bury. She recognizes Henry’s biological father, the pirate, blood, the green flashes of a portal, Henry, voices that tell her she’s not enough, the overwhelming feeling that she needs to be enough--

It breaks off as quickly as it began, and Regina gasps, her knees shaking and hands clenched against the feeling of the dark magic that had just invaded her mind.

She has to get to the library.

* * *

Snow and Charming are making their way through the tunnels when they hear her.

Her scream pierces their ears, but covering them does no good. A deluge of confusing images flash before their eyes. They recognize Neal, Hook, the girl from Emma’s old video camera. There are prison bars and the burn of a medical lamp, the overwhelming urge to hurt stifled by something, and the stale memories of tears and hopelessness, and flashes of green--

And then it’s gone, leaving them with ringing ears and light heads.

“Snow?”

“I’m okay. You?”

“Yeah.”

“What on earth was that?”

David’s mouth opens to answer, until they hear a great roaring coming from up ahead. It sounds as though rocks are tearing themselves in half, as though the mine might come down on top of their heads. “I think that might be our answer,” he says.

The race for the source of the sound.

* * *

“Emma!”

She hears her mother behind her, and the sound of her voice makes her halt her magic with a pained grunt. She nearly sobs against the force of holding it back.

She tries to remind herself that the Darkness is inside her making her feel a lot of things as she reins herself in, but she can feel her magic stirring, and after the display she just put on, she’s worried.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she manages through gritted teeth, “I’m dangerous.”

Then comes the voice of her father, “No, you’re our daughter. There’s nowhere else for us to be.”

 _With your son,_ pops into her head but she doesn’t say it.

She raises from the water and turns, the freezing surf dripping from her clothing but she doesn’t feel it.

Their worried faces slam into her with the force of a truck, and she wants to just fall into their arms, but--

_beating her fists against the trunk, crying, screaming, wishing that her parents could take her away from here, imagines that they will come and save her_

The Darkness nudges her memories, nudges her anger.

“We have a plan,” Snow says then.

Something in her leaps.

_\--imagines that they will come and save her--_

“We do?” she asks.

“Or at least, the beginning of one,” Charming amends. “We’re going to get the magic cuff from Zelena. Make it so you can’t use magic.”

The heat flares in her again, and in an instant, she’s thrown violently back into when her parents were scared of her magic, when she tried to get rid of it and nearly killed herself, Elsa, and Hook in the process with their encouragement (with their fear).

A violent “No,” spits through her teeth, “You won’t take my magic from me again.” It feels as though the Darkness pushed the words out of her, but it felt good, so good, to say it. She slaps a hand over her mouth anyway, knowing that she really, really shouldn’t like the Darkness. “That--that wasn’t me,” she stammers.

Her parents shift uncomfortably, but David says, “It’s okay, Emma. We know.”

_They fear you, Emma Swan._

“No,” she whispers under her breath, “they fear _you._ ”

“Emma, who are you talking to?” she hears Snow ask, but she barely hears it.

_We only reveal their fear to you. It was there all along, you just refuse to see it._

“Emma,” her mother tries again, and this time Emma looks at her. Snow doesn’t flinch at the intensity of Emma’s gaze, but Emma can tell that it’s a near thing.

“Do you know how to get it out of me?” she asks. When they don’t answer, her voice raises, “How are you going to get the Darkness out?”

“We don’t know yet,” Snow says.

“But don’t worry. Everyone is working on it,” David continues. “Robin and Regina, Hook and Henry, even Belle. We’ll find a way, Emma. You’ll be back to normal soon.”

_Normal is nothing, Emma Swan._

She flinches but doesn’t say anything, merely nodding at their words.

“Come on,” Snow prompts, holding out a hand, “Everyone will be waiting for you.”

_Waiting for their Savior to return._

“Maybe just try to not invade our minds again with that screaming?” David asks, clearly trying to lighten the tension to no avail.

“What was it that you showed us?” Snow asks then. “When you did that. What were all those things you showed us?”

Something slides into place inside her with a resolute click. “You would know if you had asked,” Emma answers.

“What?”

“You would know what those things meant if you had just _asked._ ” She breathes harder now, the temptation to lash out strong, rising in her like bile. “But you never did. All you wanted was to _connect_ with me but you never bothered to get to know me in the first place.” She scoffs loudly. “It was all ‘you must have questions about us’ and never the other way around.”

“Honey, you were so closed off. We just wanted you to come to us on your own time,” Snow answers.

“Parents are supposed to know their children. You should’ve known that I--” she sucks in a heavy breath, trying to drown her hurt in anger and it’s working. “You should’ve gotten to know me before you started trying for another one because I wasn’t what you wanted--”

“Emma--” David tries, but Emma doesn’t let him.

“I was never enough you you, was I? Before I was even born, you tried to fix me,” Emma hisses. “You say you were trying to protect me. But see, I think you were just trying to fix a problem before that problem was even born. Who assumes the worst of their own child?” She stares directly at Snow, hoping that her glare is every bit as cutting as she wants it to be. “How could you think that when your child was growing inside you, when you could feel them getting bigger day after day, when you first felt them move and respond to your voice… How could you ever think that there was something to fix?”

David says, “Emma, there’s so much you don’t understand about our lives before you were born--”

Just as something slid into place not moments before, something inside Emma snaps.

Her hand flies up, and she lets her dark magic loose.

Invisible nooses tighten around their necks, but she doesn’t cut off their air, not just yet. She wants them awake for this.

“ _I_ don’t understand _your_ lives? You dragged me out of my life and made me into a Savior. I am so sick of villains, and I am _sick_ of you deciding to sacrifice my happiness for the greater good!”

She stops trying to fight the Darkness because it’s _right_. She’s been so angry for so long, and she’s always been expected to just bury it, to forgive and forget. But Emma is done forgiving. She’s done allowing others’ happiness to eclipse her own. It starts here.

Until--

“Swan!”

“Mom!”

Their voices are like a breath of fresh air she’d never realized she was missing. Her eyes flicker away from her parents, finding Henry and Killian slowing their running just shy of where she stands.

Hook places a protective arm in front of Henry, and she feels anger flare up because that’s _her_ son--

“Emma,” he says gently, and his voice is a balm, but it isn’t enough. “Please stop.”

 _He doesn’t understand,_ it hisses.

“You don’t understand,” she tells him. “I have to do this. I _deserve_ to do this.”

“Listen to your words, this isn’t you speaking,” Killian says. “Remember what you told me about no one deciding who you are but yourself? Make that choice, Emma.”

 _We have,_ it says.

“I have.”

“I don’t believe you. Look at what you’re doing.” He starts to edge around her so that she can see her parent’s squirming against her hold in her peripheral vision, their hands clawing at the invisible grip she has. “Those are your parents. Your mum and dad. Your home is where they are, right? In Neverland, you told us that you always felt like an orphan,” he says gently, and she tenses while the Darkness coils. “If you do this, you’ll be the one who made yourself an orphan. When you get scared of being hurt, you push people away. This isn’t pushing away, love. If you kill them, you can’t fix it. You can’t find them again.”

She trembles at his words, and she can feel horror and revulsion rising up in her, but she doesn’t release them. The Darkness pushes at her.

“Swan, you’ve got to let them go,” Killian prods gently. He steps closer until he’s right next to her. He’s so close she can feel the heat off his body and if she could just touch him--

 _The pirate doesn’t make our choices for us,_ the thing inside her says, vehement and more violent than she remembers from before.

“You can’t make my choices for me,” she echoes, but something twists in her heart as she says it.

“I couldn’t do that even if I tried,” he says.

 _He’s wrong,_ the Darkness insists, but she doesn’t listen. She keeps her eyes glued to his.

“I--I know,” she says as she looks back at him. He’s right. It’s always been her choice. He’s right, so the Darkness--

It’s like she’s been falling and she’s finally found the bottom. The Darkness isn’t right about him, so maybe it isn’t right about…

“Let them go, Mom,” Henry adds from behind Hook, and Emma realizes that she’s trying to choke her parents in front of her _son_.

“I--I don’t know if I can,” she manages. Because it’s revolting and dark and nothing she’s ever let herself feel before, but at the same time it’s a catharsis and deep-seated relief.

Killian smiles softly. “There she is. Come back to us, love.”

As she lets her parents go, much to the Darkness’s dismay, and they collapse, she can feel the temptation to do it again, to give in to everything that she still feels. She turns to Hook, nearly falling into his ready embrace, because it’s safer here.

His arms tighten around her and she sighs in absolute relief because she doesn’t feel the pull, doesn’t hear the voice, and _God_ , she just tried to kill her parents.

(She can hear them gasping for air, can hear Henry checking on them to see if they’re okay.)

She doesn’t pull away from him, half afraid that if she does, all the Darkness will come rushing back. (It’s only at bay. She can feel it in her, deep and tucked away, but it’s there.) “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, and her eyes are stinging. “I’m sorry.”

She brings herself to look at them. Her parents stand away from her, shell-shocked and breathing hard. She spies the dagger in David’s hand. The Darkness in her leaps, and Killian must feel her tense, because he pulls away, and determinedly meets her eyes with his own. “Stay with us, Swan.”

“Mom,” Henry says, prompting her to look at him. “We’ll figure it out. It’s going to be okay.”

Her beautiful boy, so full of hope and faith in her. She breathes, focuses on him and Killian’s warmth and feels the Darkness recede once more.

“Okay,” she says, nodding at Henry and trying to put on something resembling a smile. Killian’s hand threads with her own, and she grips it like a lifeline.

Her parents have approached her now, and she can already see the bruises forming on their necks. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice small. (She can also see the dagger still in David’s hand. The Darkness _wants_.)

Snow looks like she wants to reach out, but she just twines her hands in front of her, twisting them as though nervous. “We will figure this out.”

David nods in agreement, and he shifts the dagger in his hand, and it’s like it’s another piece of her body that he’s holding, and she’s so hyper aware of it it makes her head hurt. “Dad, can you--” she struggles to not lunge for it, it’s right there, and they can’t stop her--

“The dagger, mate. Put it away,” Killian finishes.

David startles, as though he hadn’t realized he was holding it in the first place, and moves to sheath it behind him. “Sorry,” he says.

Once it’s out of sight, it’s easier to forget it, but the awareness only fades to a low hum. “So you… You said you had a plan? To get the Darkness out?” she asks.

“We can talk about it more once you have the cuff on. Then you won’t be afraid of hurting anyone,” Henry says.

She nods, smiles at Henry because no, she doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She doesn’t.

The Darkness rises and makes her shudder, and she holds onto Killian tighter.

_We know you, Emma Swan._

* * *

When Robin returns to the library, he finds himself mid-conversation between Belle and Regina.

“...It clearly had something to do with Emma, because Killian knew what was happening right away and ran off with Henry.”

“I’m sorry, he _what_ with my son?”

Belle says, “He was going after Emma, and Henry followed him. I doubt Killian was thinking very much about anyone’s safety except Emma’s.”

Regina grumbles something under her breath that does not sound complimentary before she turns to him. It’s a balm to his soul to see her shoulders relax and her face slacken into a small smile when she sees him. “Anything from the Merry Men?”

“No signs that Emma was in the forest,” he reports. “I have them on the lookout around the camp and small groups sweeping the forest, but it would seem that she found someplace else to be her safe haven.”

“Roland?” Regina asks.

“Worried about Emma,” he says, “but Scarlet’s got him well occupied.”

Regina nods with a small sigh of relief. “Good. At least one of our sons is safe.”

“Henry’s a headstrong lad,” Robin says, “I doubt Hook would’ve been able to, or even want to stop him from following after the...” He searches for an accurate term, but comes up dry. “Mind-screaming? What exactly was that?”

“It’s what we were talking about when you joined us,” Belle says.

Regina nods. “It’s something I’ve read about; magical projection into other’s minds. But she didn’t just manage to project images and sounds…”

“There were feelings, too,” Belle says.

Regina nods. “Exactly. The fact that she managed to do it even to people without magic says that she’s incredibly powerful, even if she’s wildly out of control.” Regina strokes a hand over the leather cuff. “Let’s just hope she gets here soon so we can put this on her.”

Her motion with the cuff draws his attention to her hands, and he spies Pandora’s box sitting on the table behind her. His body draws in a sharp breath against his will, and he tears his gaze away. His palms have begun to sweat, and he tries to casually dry them against his vest.

Robin turns to Belle, “Could you give us a moment?”

The woman who once saved him from torture and certain death in Rumplestiltsken’s castle nods. “I’ve got a few books in the back I’d like to look through,” she says, and leaves the couple in silence.

“Are you okay?” Robin asks.

She stiffly. “I have the cuff. Zelena’s trapped in Pandora’s box. Everything’s going according to plan.” Regina seems to be doing everything in her power to hold herself together, and Robin gladly pushes aside his own aches to ease hers.

“Hey,” he prods. He grasps her shoulders in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “We will find a way to save her. You know Emma. She’s strong. She’ll fight this, and we’ll help her.”

“But she shouldn’t have to,” Regina says, “She shouldn’t have sacrificed herself for me like that. It’s should’ve been me who took the Darkness. Emma barely understands magic as it is, and if I’d taken it, maybe I could’ve controlled it better or…” she trails off in frustration.

“Then it would’ve been your name on that blade, lost and alone and frightened. Besides, you heard what the Apprentice said. The Darkness is chained to a person so it does not destroy the realms. Had Emma not intervened, it would’ve destroyed you and the rest of the lands. And after Marian and Zelena, I--” Robin takes a steadying breath. “I can’t lose you again.” He cups her cheek in his hand and she leans into it. “I will forever be in Emma’s debt for bringing you back to me.”

Regina closes her eyes. “I should’ve been able to do something.”

“You are,” he says. “Emma made a choice. An impossible choice between saving everyone she loves and putting herself on the line to do so. There are some situations where there are no winners. You just have to pick up the pieces and move forward. You are helping us move forward. You are going to help Emma. It’s just who you are, Regina. Out of the direst of circumstances, from a life of loneliness and pain and anger, out of the destruction you often created yourself, you find a way to move forward. And you’ll do so again.”

Before Regina can respond, the bell over the door chimes.

Then comes the voice of Snow White, “We found her.”

* * *

Snow and Charming enter first and announce their arrival; Henry follows but stops in the threshold, his eyes cast backwards at them.

Emma hasn’t let go of Killian once since the beach, and when she stops, he halts as well.

“I shouldn’t go in there,” she says, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Henry assures, “You’ll be okay, Mom. We have the cuff. Once we get it on, you’ll feel better.”

She doesn’t say anything, just nods, but Killian knows that look on her face. He hasn’t seen it in some time. He’s seen variations of it, to be sure, but not this.

She’s the lost girl again, and it breaks his heart.

She looks to him, her eyes searching.

He remembers fearing what they would find when he and Henry tracked her and her parents to the beach. He’s seen what becoming the Dark One does to someone. Turns their skin scaled and metallic, blackens their heart, and preys upon the darkness of their soul.

But she had looked the same. Same cable knit sweater that she’d put on despite his kissing her bare shoulder and insisting that they could afford to be late to the celebration by just a few more minutes. She does look a bit worse for the wear, dirt and seawater smudging her clothing, but she still looks like her. So despite watching Emma, a woman voraciously dedicated to her family, attempt to strangle her parents, it was seeing that pale skin and jade green of her eyes that convinced him she could still be saved.

It is, however, disconcerting to see this fear in her, this woman who he loves more than his own life. It hurts him to see her trembling, to see her fighting so hard against the Darkness he’s spent centuries trying to destroy. In that moment, he feels a pang of epic failure in his bones. If he’d succeeded, she never would’ve had to take this burden upon her soul.

“Emma,” he breathes, “You can do this. You are stronger than it, love. I know you are.” He can practically feel her fear, her uncertainty rolling off of her in waves, so he swallows his own fear and smiles at her. “Besides, you certainly don’t look like a crocodile.”

She chokes out a laugh. “I guess I lucked out,” she answers, and he’s relieved because she doesn’t look so lost anymore.

Henry is still looking at her with that belief of his, and that seems to break down the last of Emma’s resistance as she allows him to lead her inside the library.

Regina and Robin stand next to each other, and Belle is walking out of the library’s back room and then coming to lean on the library front desk. He nods briefly in greeting to his friend, who was probably worried about how he’d rushed off without explanation.

Regina is eyeing Emma with trepidation, and at Snow with concern. Emma’s parents must have filled them in on what happened while they were outside, and Regina is clearly not eager to see a repeat performance.

“How are you feeling, Emma?” Despite her trepidation, Regina is still clearly filled with concern.

Emma’s grimace becomes some semblance of a smile as she says, “Like I’ve got the greatest Darkness in the world in me. I’d like it out.”

“Here.” They turn when they hear Snow, and she’s holding out the cuff.

Killian steps away, but she doesn't let him go far. Her hand is still tightly wrapped in his as he watches Emma’s expression fall. Her hand clenches so hard he can see it trembling and hear the knuckles crack.

“Give it to Henry,” she nearly gasps.

Snow shies backwards the slightest bit, but doesn’t raise complaint as she hands the cuff off to Emma’s son.

“I’m sorry, I just--” Emma tries. “I just don’t think I can keep you safe if you get that close to me.”

“We understand,” David says, placing a hand on Snow’s elbow. They share a loaded look that Killian can’t decipher.

“Ready?” Henry asks.

Emma nods, and holds out a fist. She’s no longer shaking, but Killian can tell from her expression that it’s a near thing.

When Henry slides the cuff over her wrist, they all tense, waiting for some new explosion of magic or something other than an anti-climactic silence.

But the latter is what they get, and it seems that the room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

“Well, now for the hard part,” Regina says. “How do we get it out?”

Belle meets Killian’s eyes, and they say simultaneously: “Merlin.”

* * *

In a grand room of Camelot, three figures stand around a round table.

“This is our best chance,” Guinevere says. “With the Dark One curse tied to the Savior, it will be at it’s most vulnerable. This is the chance we’ve been waiting for, and it will never come again.”

Lancelot says, “As much as I balk at this plan, Guinevere is right. If we’re to move forward, we must get to the Land Without Magic.”

Their leader stares contemplatively out the window, his fingers gripping the hilt of Excalibur. His deep brown eyes flicker down to the red stone at the pommel before closing. “A great man gave up his life to get us this sword. I will not allow that sacrifice to be in vain.” He turns. “Now is our chance to fix my grievous error, and rid the living world of the Dark One curse forever.”

* * *

When the night grows too long, their group begins to retire for the night. In the quiet of the loft, the Dark One stirs.

Her body is not tired, nor is her mind.

She wishes that she hadn’t sent Henry to Regina’s. She wishes that she’d taken Hook up on his offer to stay on the Roger. She wishes her parents hadn’t insisted that she would stay in her bed, trying to convince her and themselves that they are not afraid of her.

She can hear the deep breaths of her parents below her, can hear the fluttery heartbeat of her little brother next to them in his bassinet.

But more than that, she can hear the Darkness.

_Your mother took her bow out of the closet._

_They’re afraid of you. They claim they love you, but they’re terrified of you._

_You cannot love someone you fear. You cannot love someone you do not understand._

_And they do not understand you, Emma Swan._

And alone, Emma listens.

Alone, Emma remembers.

* * *

**20 Years Ago**

Strange as it sounds, Emma likes washing the dishes. It makes her feel like a part of things, like she’s a part of a necessary system. Her foster mother, Sylvia, washes and hands them to her to dry, and she puts them away.

The kitchen normally smells like heavy, outdated air freshener, but now the scent of orange dish soap fills the air. The cabinets are cheap wood veneer, the shelves sagging with their age, but to Emma, it seems like nothing could be more perfect.

Her foster father retreats to the living room with a case of beer, even though he’d already had a few glasses of scotch with dinner.

He shouts something at the TV, and Sylvia flinches, and then begins to hum. Emma doesn’t recognize the song, but it makes her smile.

Sylvia notices Emma’s smile as she hands her another plate.

And just after that, just after Emma begins smiling and Sylvia begins to hum a little louder, the plate falls.

Shatters.

Sylvia falls silent, the color draining from her face.

“What was that?” he yells from the living room. Emma’s stomach drops when she hears angry, drunken footsteps approaching the doorway. “What the fuck was that?”

When he reaches the doorway to the kitchen, he grabs the frame and surveys the scene before him. “You let her do this?”

Sylvia can’t meet his eye, and doesn’t look at Emma when she says, “Did it all on her own.”

He can move so fast, and then his hand is grabbing Emma’s hair, and she’s so scared she can’t even scream. She just pants, whimpers, can feel her eyes burning from the pain in her scalp as he drags her off her stool.

Emma grabs at his fingers, trying to dislodge them from her hair as he drags her out into the garage that houses the Pontiac station wagon but he’s too strong and her hands are too small and Emma begins to cry.

“Shut up,” he says as he pops the trunk. “This’ll teach you to disrespect my property, disrespect the house you live in.”

He pushes Emma inside, and closes the top. There’s overwhelming quiet for a moment, the only sound she can hear is her breathing scraping her throat, and then the muffled sound of yelling.

There are a few stark moments of shock as Emma stares into the darkness of the trunk, her tears hot on her cold face until she begins to pound at the top of the trunk.

She finds her voice through the fear, begging, _crying_ for someone to come save her. She loses track of time as she beats her small fists until they’re bruises and cracked, cries until her voice goes hoarse.

When her arms collapse back down to her chest, exhausted and painful, she imagines her parents, gives them imaginary faces and strong arms as they carry her away from her fear, from this house, from _all_ the houses. She imagines the way her mother might pick her up, the way her father would smile at her.

That night in the trunk of a Pontiac, Emma dreams of her parents and the home that they could give her.

Thirty-odd hours later, when the police pull her out of the trunk and call her social worker, some part of Emma realizes that no one is coming to save her. No one is coming to find her or give her a home.

The imaginary spectre of her parents shatter just as surely as her hope had shattered the instant she dropped that plate.

* * *

_We have so many plans, Emma Swan._

* * *

When Snow awakens, it’s to the piercing sound of her cell phone ringing and pitch darkness still outside the window. Neal immediately begins crying.

Snow reaches over to her bedside table. “David, can you--”

He grunts and rolls out of bed. “Yeah.”

She checks the caller ID, concern flickering through her heart before she answers. “Regina? What’s--”

 _“Pandora’s box is gone,”_ she says without preamble.

Snow asks, still sleep addled, “What? How is that possible?”

_“It’s not. Unless someone managed to shatter my protection spells.”_

“Who could do that?” Snow’s mind begins to snap to awareness, and she doesn’t want to believe what she knows must be--

_“You and I know exactly who. Get the dagger, because I think Emma’s trying to set Zelena free.”_

David’s managed to quiet Neal’s cries (mostly protest at being awoken than any real discomfort) to soft whimpers, and he looks at her in question. “Emma took Pandora’s box.” David’s countenance drops. “Get the dagger. We’re going after her.”

Her husband gently places Neal back in his bassinet, and goes over to the enchanted box Regina had given them to house the dagger.

He freezes.

“David?” Snow asks.

_“Snow, what’s going on?”_

When David turns, Snow knows immediately what’s wrong.

 _“Snow?”_ Regina asks.

“Emma has the dagger.”

* * *

Outside the town line, Emma releases the lock on Pandora’s box and steps back. As the smoke coalesces into a solid figure, Emma immediately steps up behind her.

Zelena staggers when she solidifies, the echoes of a rageful scream dying in her throat when she realizes she’s free.

Emma seizes the Wicked Witch and places the dagger against her throat. “Don’t move.”

“Why, the Savior would never dare harm an expectant mother,” she says. Despite her nonchalant words, Emma can feel her captive readying herself for attack. Zelena raises a hand, and flicks with her fingers, clearly expecting a magical advantage to free her from Emma’s grip.

When nothing happens, Emma feels Zelena stiffen and try again.

“Why can’t I feel my magic? What have you done to me?” She can’t see Zelena’s face, but her tone betrays her panic. When Emma doesn’t answer, Zelena looks down. “Well, hello Dark One,” she says, her tone shifting as she sees the new name adorning the dagger, “A much lovelier body you’ve inhabited this time around, I must say. But it looks like just enough of Emma Swan has stuck around in there to carry over her boorish instincts.” Zelena tries to throw an elbow backwards, trying to catch Emma unaware.

Emma blocks it. “Don’t overestimate my sympathy,” she whispers and then kicks out Zelena’s left knee. The witch cries out in pain as her leg buckles, sending her down to the pavement. Emma follows, keeping the dagger pressed harshly to her throat.

“You’re on my turf now, Greenie. And you’re going to be doing a few things for me.”

* * *

In the ever-changing landscape of the Underworld, a distinguished gentleman looks upwards and smiles.

“It’s time.”


	2. In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Knights of Camelot have arrived, led by Red Riding Hood, but not all is as it seems. Emma sets Zelena loose on Storybrooke to devastating effect while the pieces of her plan fall into place. Robin and Regina face some difficult history in the aftermath. Belle makes some crucial discoveries about the Dark One curse that could hopefully lead to saving Emma. Killian finds himself confiding in Charming when he fears his control over his dark impulses is slipping.

_“It looks like just enough of Emma Swan has stuck around in there to carry over her boorish instincts.” Zelena throws an elbow backwards, trying to catch Emma unaware.  
_

_Emma blocks it. “Don’t overestimate my sympathy,” she whispers and then kicks out Zelena’s left knee. The witch cries out in pain as her leg buckles, sending her down to the pavement. Emma follows, keeping the dagger pressed harshly to her throat._

_“You’re on my turf now, Greenie. And you’re going to be doing a few things for me.”_

Zelena ceases her struggles, but Emma can feel the tension in her frame. The Wicked Witch isn’t down for the count; good thing Emma hadn’t planned on letting her guard down.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Zelena taunts, “Unlike you, I’ve no Achilles’ heel. There’s no dagger controlling me, and since Rumple tried to kill me, my magic is free of that damned pendant.”

“Unlike you, I don’t plan on forcing you to do something for my own gain,” Emma says.

Zelena scoffs. “Please, you’re not hung up on Robin Hood, too? What about your one-handed lover--”

Emma doesn’t let her finish. She throws Zelena to the ground face-first as though she was planning on cuffing her like she was a bail skip. She not-so-gently pushes her knee into the space between the witch’s shoulder blades, and relishes in the pained huff of breath that results. Digging the dagger further into Zelena’s jugular, Emma doesn’t ease the pressure until a small prick of blood wells underneath the blade.

“You’re going to listen to me very closely, Zelena,” she whispers, “You are seriously overestimating your value to me. You’ve hurt people I care very much about, and that isn’t endearing. I plan on using you because you are easy access, nothing more.”

“You wouldn’t dare kill a pregnant woman,” Zelena says, but Emma is pleased to note that she doesn’t sound as sure as she did before.

Emma smiles thinly, even though Zelena can’t see it. “I’d hardly be killing a pregnant woman if you weren’t pregnant any more. Not to mention I think Regina would be pleased if you were no longer around to cause Robin and her grief. Honestly, I can see them raising your child on their own. Wouldn’t that be absolutely lovely? Your child, growing up loving your sister when she would never even know your name.”

Emma strikes the intended nerve, and Zelena lets out a scream of rage. “You touch my child and nothing will stand between me and that dagger. Then I’ll drive it through your heart and I will _laugh_.”

Emma doesn’t flinch. “Remember what I said. You do as I say, you keep your baby. No one wants that more than me.”

Zelena’s laugh is strained from the knee on her back. “And why, pray tell, do you want that?”

Emma lessens her pressure on Zelena’s back, allowing her more breathing room. “Having a child taken away is something I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence as Zelena absorbs her words before Emma speaks again. “So, do we have a deal?”

“We have an accord,” Zelena agrees, if a bit grudgingly.

Emma immediately stands and steps away. Zelena scrambles quickly to her feet, trying to regain some semblance of power and dignity.

Zelena takes a deep breath, and Emma watches as the Wicked Witch emerges. “So what exactly is it that the Dark One needs of little old me?”

“I need you to do what you do best,” Emma says.

“And what’s that now?”

The new Dark One grins. “Raise hell.”

* * *

 

To be separated from the Underworld is not his natural state, and when Hades crosses his portal into the Land Without Magic, he shudders. The air is too moist, the trees too alive. He can feel every living soul beating against his awareness like feeble birds’ wings. On the horizon, he sees a familiar clock tower.

Being nearly cut off from the land of the dead is deeply uncomfortable; the land of the living will never be his domain, but he’s willing to bear it. This event has been thousands of years in the making.

And finally, _finally_  he will have what he requires.

* * *

 

“I don’t understand how she broke through the protection spell. I thought that was the whole point of the cuff,” David says quietly.

David, Snow, Hook, Robin, and Regina are all gathered in Regina’s living room, and their states of undress reflect the time of night. Neal is snoozing in his carrier in the next room, and Henry and Roland are blessedly asleep upstairs, none the wiser to their late night predicament. Although ‘predicament’ is a rather charitable description for what they are facing.

Robin is seated on the couch, quietly observing the proceedings. He has enough experience in these situations to know when his input is necessary, so for now, he remains silent, turning everything over in his head and carefully watching Regina as she clearly struggles to not pace back and forth.

“All magic has its limits,” she explains. “I should’ve seen this coming. Right now, Emma has equal measures of the strongest light magic and the strongest dark magic in her. That’s… that’s unprecedented. It’s probable the cuff just… couldn’t take the strain.”

“It doesn’t matter how she managed to free the dagger,” Hook snaps, “What matters is that she has it, and we yet again have no idea where she is.”

“We need to find her again,” David says, “We can--”

“Did you not see how that’s worked out for us so far?” Regina asks. “She blew out two-thirds of Main Street the first time, she nearly strangled you and Snow, and now she possesses the only means of controlling her and one of the most powerful villains we’ve ever had to face.”

“So you’re suggesting we just leave her out there?” Killian asks.

Regina looks at him sharply. “I’m not talking about abandoning her, but for the time being, everyone is safest if she’s not here. The most important thing for us to do now is figure out how to get it out of her.”

“The most important thing is that she knows she’s not alone,” Killian insists.

Regina looks as if she’s trying to contain her anger, and Robin reaches over to her hand. She looks down as he weaves their fingers together, and the fight seems to go out of her, like a wind-blown sail going flat. She lowers herself down next to him on the couch. “Emma is a threat,” she says carefully. “You saw what she did to David and Snow. What if you can’t stop her next time? Want that on your conscience?”

Hook answers, “No, but I also know Emma. The absolute worst thing we can do is make her think we’re afraid of her.”

“Shouldn’t we be?” Snow suggests, and recently diffused tension in the room immediately intensifies once more. Regina’s hand tightens in his.

“Snow…” David says, but his wife ignores him.

“She nearly killed us tonight.” She shakes her head as though disappointed with herself. “We brought her back to our home trying to convince ourselves that she’s still our daughter, and she broke our trust and stole the dagger. That doesn’t sound like Emma, that sounds like a Dark One.”

“She didn’t hurt us when she took it,” David says, “That’s got to say something.”

Snow shakes her head again. “That’s not good enough for me. We have an infant son, David, and I can’t take that chance.”

“What are you trying to say, Snow?” Regina asks.

“I love Emma, but I can’t put my family at risk to trust that she won’t hurt us.”

“ _She_ is your family,” Killian says, heated and Robin can see the situation spiraling before it even happens. “I’d say that’s worth the risk.”

“Back off, Hook,” David snaps, “We’re not giving up on her--”

“Bloody well sounds like you are--”

Regina interrupts, “No one is giving up on anyone. We just need to come up with a plan. Hook,” she says, turning to him, “where did you and Belle get on research?”

Killian looks away from the Charmings, and refocuses with a deep breath. “Not far. The only clue the Apprentice gave us before he died was ‘Merlin’ and I’m afraid this realm has volumes worth of lore on him, legends and obscure branching narratives and epic poems that could all be based upon presumption or falsehoods that would make them utter rubbish.”

“If we don’t have a way to get the Darkness out of her--” Snow begins, but Killian is swift to interrupt.

“For God’s sake, if you’re about to launch into yet another diatribe about not being able to risk your family--”

“Hey,” Charming says, “ease up. We’re all worried here. But unlike you, we have another child to worry about.”

“So do I,” Regina says, the epitome of raised hackles, “but you seem like you’re ready to hightail it out of town. One measly magic choking and you’re ready to call it quits?”

The squabbling begins quite quickly after that. If it weren’t for the sleeping children in this house, he’s sure things would be devolving quite quickly into a screaming match. Regardless of the lack of volume, the exchange has the same content as a mindless argument.

He sighs, squeezes Regina’s hand, and finally speaks up, “Okay, that is _enough._ ” They quiet almost immediately at his authoritative tone. (It’s nice to know that he’s still got it.) “Squabbling like a group of tired, cranky children is no way for us to come up with a plan to save Emma. Not to mention we clearly don’t have all the information we require in order to do so.” He looks around the room at all of them, making sure each of them feels the weight of his stare, “I say we go back to bed, and start fresh in the morning because it’s quite obvious not one of us is thinking clearly.” He looks at Killian. “Hook, go back with Snow and David to the loft.” They all look like they’re about to protest ( _children_ ), but he cuts them off. “If you’re so nervous about Emma harming you or your son, then take the man who we know can talk her down. Solve your issues like adults on the way there if you must. We’ll meet tomorrow in the library, hopefully with level heads restored.”

Everyone seems to want to argue, but since they have no suitable rebuttal, they acquiesce.

As he watches them leaving down the walkway with Regina at his side, she says, “Think that was the best idea? Snow looked ready to bludgeon him, and I know she’s got it in her.”

Robin answers, “They’ll figure it out. Like I said, we’re all tired, we’re all worried; that’s going to bring out the worst in anyone.”

Regina smirks. “Not you, apparently.”

He chuckles softly. “Well, someone must stay even-keeled amongst you hot-headed heroes. Come on,” he says, “off to bed. We’ve an early morning tomorrow.”

* * *

 

The silence is awkward as they walk back towards the loft, but Killian has no intention of trying to break it. His anger at their lack of faith is still simmering beneath the surface, and he’s hoping Robin’s observation that their outbursts are the results of them being overtired and worried turns out to be true. That way they’ll be able to work together in the morning.

Snow and David walk a little ways ahead of him, having one of their silent conversations with Emma’s brother swaying between them. There are a few whispered words that he doesn’t try to hear.

The little boy is awake, bundled in blankets and clothes to combat the chilly temperatures as fall creeps up on them, and his eyes are focused on Killian. He nearly laughs because the lad’s almost got Emma’s exasperated gaze down to a tee.

The silent conversation ahead of him ends as they approach the loft. Without a word, Snow hands Neal off to David, who continues on inside. When Hook moves to follow him, Snow grabs his arm, “Nope, you’re staying out here with me. We need to have a little chat.”

The part of him that so desperately wants Emma’s parents approval is frightened, but it’s easy to ignore when his outrage is still fresh.

The door to the building closes, and Snow says, “Implying that David and I don’t love our daughter is not appreciated.”

He nearly snorts. “That’s not at all what I was implying.”

Snow gives him a piercing look he recognizes well from Emma’s face. “Really? Because that’s what it sounded like.”

He checks his tone. As Robin said, letting their frustration guide their actions is no way to get things done. “You’re trying to look out for your boy. I don’t begrudge you that.” He looks down, shuffles his feet and wonders if he should tell her this. He realizes that there’s no other way to repair the unintentional damage he’d caused, so he looks Snow in the eye and tells her, “After Emma nearly gave up her magic, we had a long talk about why she wanted to do it. There were… there were a lot of reasons, but the one she struggled with the most, the one that she kept coming back to, was that she felt that you both wanted her to be rid of it. She thought you’d feel safer around her if she didn’t have magic, that you’d trust her with her brother more if she didn’t have it.”

Snow’s gaze has softened, and he continues.

“She wants you to love her, so, so badly, and she was willing to change just about anything to make it so.”

“We do,” Snow breathes, “We do love her. So much.”

“I’m glad, because she deserves it more than anyone. But sometimes all the love in the world can’t bridge the gap between you. The things you don’t know about her life…” He sighs. “I don’t want to seem as though I’m trying to devalue your concern for her. What I do want is for Emma to not feel as though her own parents are afraid of her when she’s been waiting her whole life to be with you.”

Snow nods in understanding. Her anger from earlier seems to have dried up, leaving only regret and pain in its wake. “I know. I know I haven’t… I know we haven’t always been the parents she’s needed. We’ve tried, but… we’re only human.” Hook nods. He knows the fear of letting someone down more than most.

Snow continues, “When we found out the curse was coming, we never thought about what would come afterwards. All we could think of was keeping Emma safe, getting her away from the curse. It nearly broke us, thinking about sending her away to grow up without us, but we made the choice that we thought would save us, save _everyone_ , in the end.” Snow tilts her head back, sighing deeply.

“There are so many conversations I wish we could’ve had that we never did,” she continues, “But she’s… you know how she is. You can only push her so much before you just have to wait and let her come to you.”

“Aye.”

“So we’re trying,” Snow says, “and I have no idea what to do because my daughter is gone, again, because she had to save everyone, _again_. But it’s different now because _she’s_ different. I had barely learned about her the first time, and now she’s a completely different woman.”

“Not completely different,” Killian quietly amends.

“No?”

“I think she’s still there. The Dark One curse is a creature of pure darkness, and it brings out the worst in its host. It pries open the darkest parts of you and stifles the light. Imagine a compulsion to act upon every single bad thought you’d ever had, even if it was just in passing. I can’t blame her for that.”

There’s a heavy silence for a few moments before Snow asks, “Can you tell me something about her? Something that you know that I don’t.”

He feels a pang in his chest, sifts through his knowledge of the woman he loves, and carefully chooses something she’d shared with him not too long ago. “One of her most treasured possessions is this cheap plastic ring,” he says softly, “The first time she showed it to me, she didn’t quite remember how she’d come to possess it, but once she regained her memories of Ingrid, she remembered that she got it the day Ingrid told Emma she wanted to adopt her.”

He hears Snow’s sharp inhalation. “Ingrid wanted to adopt her?”

Killian nods. A beat later, he says, “Emma can tell you more about it when we get her back.”

Snow spends a few moments breathing shakily, her chin trembling. It’s another quirk of Emma’s that he notes, and it’s striking to see all these pieces of her displayed on Snow’s face. It sends a pang through his heart when he realizes he’s desperate to see them on his love’s face again (Is afraid, deep down, that he’ll never get the chance.)

Snow suddenly hugs him, far more raw than the one she’d given him earlier. Her cheek is against his shoulder as she says, resolutely, “We’re going to get her back.”

He knows it’s far more for her own benefit than his, but he confirms, “We’re going to get her back.”

When they go upstairs, Snow sends Killian up to Emma’s room with another hug and a grateful smile. As he settles into the sheets, the smell of Emma Swan fills his nose and he has to hold back a sob.

* * *

 

The sun has just begun to climb from behind the horizon in the early morning hours when a woman walks through the legendary Arendelle Doorway.

She has long, dark hair hidden beneath a red hood, and wears the crest of Siege Perilous upon her armored chest, whose eyes are alight with recognition when she spies a clocktower in the distance outside the window. She sighs with relief, and takes her hand from her sword. Turning back, she gives a quick gesture with her hand.

Moments later, three more people cross the glimmering divide between the worlds. Lancelot crosses first, followed by Guinevere, and then Emrys.

“This is the right place, Red?” Lancelot asks.

She looks back at him, but before she can answer, Emrys draws Excalibur, and quietly conjures a spell. The red stone at the sword’s handle glows. “The Dark One is here,” he announces as he re-sheathes the sword at his side.

“Yes. This is Storybrooke.” She turns back around, breathes deeply, and smiles. “I’m home.”

* * *

 

Main Street is a wreck. Nearly every window on the block is blown out or shattered, and many of the cars that line the curbs are slightly crushed in. It’s also strangely deserted for early morning. Usually citizens would be starting to bustle about, getting to their jobs in Storybrooke’s closest approximation of a morning rush hour, or lining up at Granny’s to get their morning orders of coffee or breakfast food.

“The Dark One must have changed here,” Emrys observes, and Ruby feels apprehension coil in her belly. She hasn’t seen Emma in months, not since she left after Neal’s naming ceremony, and she prays that nothing dire has happened to push her friend over the edge of darkness. What she’s looking at now does not inspire confidence.

As Ruby leads her three fellow Knights down the road, she spies the sign for Gold’s pawn shop. “I know someone who will be able to help us.”

* * *

 

The sign is flipped to “Closed” on the front door, but Ruby knows it’s almost never locked. The chime above the door is the same as ever, and when her heavy boots hit the wood floor, she feels the lightness of “home” settling into her bones more than it already has. Although, she’s pretty sure the feeling is less to do with where she is but rather who she’s about to see.

“Belle?” she calls out, walking further into the shop as her companions follow behind her.

“What an odd place,” she hears Guinevere mutter, followed by Lancelot’s agreement.

Emrys is surprisingly silent, and Ruby would have turned to see why their normally charismatic, outgoing leader was clamming up, but she hears footsteps from the back of the shop.

Her breath is stuck in her throat when Belle emerges from the curtained doorway. God, she’s--she’s beautiful. Wearing sky high heels ( _shocker_ ), a cardigan that buttons under her breasts, a skirt that displays just how long her legs are, and this look of shock on her face that makes Ruby break out into a grin.

“Ruby?”

She knows that she looks different. Her hair is shot through with light brown from all her time out in the sun, and the red streaks she’d sported in the Land Without Magic are long gone without the ability to keep them up. Her clothing has been replaced with the armor of a Camelot Knight of the Round Table, and since she holds the honored Siege Perilous, her armor is reflective of the position. Two entwined firebirds in a stylized crest are soldered onto her chestplate, a symbol created by Merlin himself as the legend went.

Belle steps forward hesitantly, as though she’s afraid to believe what she’s seeing.

“Hi,” Ruby says, and if she’s a little breathless when she says it, she’ll never admit it.

Belle seems to forgo all sense of decorum then as she rushes forward to throw her arms around Ruby, heedless of the armor. Ruby hugs back, and the feeling of _home_  she’d felt before was nothing compared to this.

“But how?” Upon pulling back, Belle still looks incredulous, “I thought you and Anton only had one bean. And,” she adds, looking behind Ruby, “Who are all of you?”

“We did only have one bean,” Ruby says, swallowing deeply because she’d planned on her trip to the Enchanted Forest being one way. “It’s a bit of a long story, actually. These are my friends. Lancelot, Guinevere, and Emrys.”

Belle’s head quirks at the mention of Emrys, but she steps around Ruby and says, “My name is Belle. Welcome to Storybrooke.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Belle,” says Guinevere, “but we are unfortunately here for business, not pleasure.” She shoots a prodding look at Ruby, who nods back. Guin is right--their mission is far more important than any personal heartbreak of Ruby’s.

It still sends a pang unwillingly through her when she asks, “Where’s your husband?”

Belle’s face becomes indecipherable then, and she lets out a deep sigh. “We both have pretty long stories to tell.”

* * *

 

To have Ruby back is… is certainly something. Everything has been… so _insane_  since she left, with the Snow Queen, and Rumple, and then the Queens of Darkness, and Rumple again. There’s been so much heartbreak in the last few months, Belle’s barely even had a chance to breathe.

And now Ruby’s back, and her heart is…

It’s scattered, and broken, and confused, but still beating. Still wanting in a way that it _shouldn’t._

(She’s married.)

(But she’s afraid.)

(Of him, of how much she’s given him, of how she’s still giving him the ability to hurt her--)

Before she shows them where Rumple lies comatose, she asks Ruby why they’re here, and why they need him.

“The Council of Merlin has the responsibility to minimize the damage the Dark One causes,” Lancelot answers. “And never in the history of this curse has someone become free from it without dying. Imagine the things he could tell us.”

“The Council of Merlin?” Belle asks. “I lived with the last Dark One for quite some time, and I never once heard of you.”

Lancelot answers, “We’re part of the Knights of the Round Table, and our situation with Rumplestiltsken was… complex.”

A memory flickers through her consciousness.

_Good for me. Not so good for Camelot._

“You made a deal with him,” she surmises.

Lancelot sighs. “Not exactly.”

Guinevere interrupts, “We don’t have time for a history lesson on the Knights and the Council.” She meets Belle’s gaze. “I know how frustrating it is to not have all the information to give you a complete picture, but I’m afraid our reticence is necessary.”

Belle meets her eye with steely resolve, “Then pardon me if I’m not as forthcoming in return.”

“Belle,” Ruby pleads, “It’s okay. You can trust us.”

Belle can see no hint of a lie in her eyes, and acquiesces. “What do you need to know?”

“Everything since I left Storybrooke,” Ruby answers.

Belle had been afraid that would be the case.

Telling them what she’d had to do to Rumple (what Rumple had done to her) is hard. She can’t meet Ruby’s eyes, not knowing if she can bear whatever emotion she might see there. When they’re finally appraised on the most recent crises Storybrooke has faced, Emrys nods resolutely. “These heroes you speak of--where can we find them?”

She remember’s Hook’s text from earlier ( _Meeting in the library this morning._ ) and tells them.

“Aren’t you going, too?” Ruby asks, confused. “You know more about the Dark One than just about anyone. And that’s _your_  library.”

Belle wants to smile. Ruby’s faith in her makes her feel warm, but it’s followed by a chill.

(She didn’t know the Dark One as well as she thought she did.)

“The fairies are coming by to try to help Rumple, and I… I should be here for him,” she explains. Remembers replying to Hook. Remembers his _Whatever you think is best._  in response.

(The second reply that came not minutes later. _We could certainly use your expertise, should you change your mind._ )

Guinevere calls out, “If your friend is staying behind, then we must be off. Time is of the essence, Red.”

“I know, I know,” Ruby replies. “Just… Just give me two minutes.”

Guinevere sighs, but gives them a sympathetic look. “Two minutes. We’ll be waiting for you.”

The trio of strangers (from Camelot, of all places...) exit the shop with the jingling bell sounding behind them.

“I’m sorry about Guin,” Ruby says, drawing Belle’s attention back to her. “She gets this way when we’re on missions. This one’s also pretty personal for her.”

“Personal how?”

Ruby licks her lip in a distracting way before she speaks, “You saw that sword Emrys had?” Belle nods. “That’s Excalibur.”

“Get out,” Belle breathes.

Ruby laughs. “Yeah, I had a feeling you’d like that one. They had to draw it from a stone too, from what I understand.”

“You said it’s personal for her,” Belle says, “I’m assuming it has to do with King Arthur? If the stories from this land follow, anyway.”

Ruby sighs, and seems to have trouble meeting Belle’s eyes as she says, “The situation between her and Arthur was… not great. She loved him, absolutely, and he apparently loved her, but… he just seemed to have a knack for making the wrong choices. When he was looking for Excalibur, he was constantly lying to her and ignoring her, and…” Ruby shook her head. “All of this was before my time, and it doesn’t matter now.

“Arthur died pulling Excalibur from the stone,” Ruby continues, despite the lead weight now sitting in Belle’s throat, “So many other kingdoms wanted it for so long, and he was a victim to their greed.

“I know that Emrys could tell this story better than I can, but the king of Daobeth made a deal with the Dark One to enchant Excalibur. Turns out the sword is picky about who can draw it from the stone. Once and future king, true ruler of Camelot, all that nonsense. I don’t really understand the magic of it; the enchantment couldn’t counteract that, but it would kill whoever was able to remove it. Then all Daobeth had to do was swoop in and pick it up.”

Belle stomach drops as she remembers.

_Not so good for Camelot._

“That’s awful,” she says. “What’s so powerful about Excalibur that it’s worth killing someone over?”

Ruby smiles tightly. “One of the conditions of being a Knight of the Round Table and a member of The Council of Merlin is that we can’t share certain pieces of information, and that’s one of them. I’m sorry, Belle. But it hasn’t just been one person killed over it. Wars have been waged over that sword since the time of Merlin, which is why it’s better off being in the hands of the Knights and letting it fade into myth.”

Belle’s brow furrows, but she ignores the way the weight moves from her throat to her belly, unease slithering in along with it. “Okay, well, if Daobeth had the sword, how did you get it back?”

“We fought for it,” Ruby says, going surprisingly cold. “The final battle was just before I earned Siege Perilous. It wasn’t pretty.”

She can feel that there’s far more story behind that statement than Ruby’s willing to share, but Belle doesn’t pry. Her sympathy swells, and she reaches for Ruby’s arm; even if it’s clad in armor, she hopes Ruby can understand the sentiment behind it.

Her sad smile says she can.

They’re interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Probably Guinevere getting impatient.

Her sympathy extends far, but not enough to make her forget that Ruby hasn’t told her a single damn thing. “You haven’t told me why this mission to find Emma is so personal for Guinevere, or why Excalibur is important,” Belle says, not bothering to hide her annoyance now. It feels like she’s lying by omission and Belle’s been lied to so many times… it makes her so uncomfortable to have that feeling stem from Ruby.

Ruby leans forward, placing both hands on Belle shoulders and looking her in the eye. “Remember what I said. This mission is about finding the Dark One and containing her. It’s personal for Guinevere because of Excalibur.”

There’s a plea for understanding in Ruby’s eyes, and Belle thinks she finally sees. Her discomfort eases.

“And a Knight of the Round Table can’t share every piece of information,” Belle echoes.

_There’s a connection between the Dark One and the sword._

Ruby smiles in relief. “Yes.”

Another sharp rap, and Ruby pulls back from Belle, glancing backwards at the source before turning back. “Look, there’s…” She takes a breath. “There’s a lot of things I didn’t say before I left. Things I probably should’ve said.” One of her hands raises, as if she were reaching for Belle’s face, before she seems to get ahold of herself and it falls back to her side. “When this is over, can we talk?”

All of Ruby’s nervous tics are out in full force, as she tucks an escaped strand of hair behind her ear, smiles shyly, and meets Belle’s gaze with a determined hope, and it makes butterflies erupt in Belle’s stomach. She nods. “I’d like that.”

Ruby nods back, her smile changing from shy to relieved and wide. “Good.”

When Ruby turns to leave, Belle asks suddenly, “You’re not going to kill her, are you?”

Ruby pauses, her hand on the door. Her brown eyes are laden with sadness. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep it from coming to that.”

Despite her joy over seeing Ruby again, nothing in Belle feels at peace when she leaves.

* * *

 

She’s back on the beach where she nearly killed her parents.

Emma’d had a startling moment after she’d sent Zelena off when she realized she had nowhere to go. No loft for a home base, no office at the sheriff station, no place on the Jolly Roger. It’s like she’s a homeless teenager all over again, and the emptiness only makes her _angry_.

It’s aimless anger, pointless, but Emma revels in it as she watches the waves rolling in. She holds the dagger in her hand, running her thumb over the only thing she knows of that can kill her.

“Hello, Savior.”

With a sharp gasp, she whirls around and hurls a fireball in the direction of the unfamiliar voice.

A man in a sharply pressed velvet suit catches the fire before it reaches him, but he doesn’t extinguish it. He holds it up to his face, tilting his head this way and that before he snaps his fingers and the flames peter out. Not quite handsome but far from ugly, he carries with him an air of otherness, of _wrongness_ that makes caution creep up Emma’s spine.

“Regina taught you well.” His voice is refined, solid and confident in a way that makes him seem like a man who expects to be listened to.

Despite his ease at catching her offensive spell, Emma isn’t planning on laying down without a fight. Fireballs might be Regina’s specialty, but Emma’s got more where that came from. Her magic crackles between her fingers and her grip tightens on her dagger as she asks, “Who the hell are you?”

His head cocks, seemingly not intimidated by her in the least. “An incredibly apt question, but I’m surprised you don’t know,” he says, tone light, almost breezy, “The Dark One and I have a long, storied history. I’m sure the memories are buried in one of your past lives, but, well, I suppose you have to remember that you’re carrying a separate entity within yourself. You know what it wants you to know. I could give you the shortened version if you like? It’s actually a rather good story, if you ask me. Betrayal and intrigue and love and magic. Exactly the kind of story I’m sure Henry would love.”

Emma nearly lets loose another spell, but it’s a near thing when she holds herself back with an enraged snarl. “What do you know about my son?” she asks, hackles up.

“As much as I know about your dear pirate, Killian Jones,” he answers, “or about your parents, Snow White and Prince Charming, and your little brother. Neal, wasn’t it? An unfortunate name, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her grip on the dagger tightens. “Listen to me very closely,” Emma says, words measured and low as she begins to take measured steps across the sand towards where the stranger stands. “You are trying my patience. Tell me who you are and why are you here, and I’ll consider letting you live.”

He laughs at that. No, he completely _guffaws_ at her threat, nearly bending at the waist with how hilarious he seems to find it. “Oh, dearest girl,” he says, “I have no doubt you’d give it your absolute best, and in the spirit of complete honesty, if anyone could do it, I’d bet on the Dark Swan.” He stands straighter a moment, and then his head is engulfed in intense blue flame. Emma jolts backwards in surprise. “Hades,” he says, “God of the dead. It’s lovely to meet you.”

When the flames extinguish a moment later, Emma gestures to his head, “So was that just for effect?”

He smiles. “Something like that. I did quite enjoy your world’s rendering of me. I look forward to the day James Woods graces my doorstep.”

“This is ridiculous,” Emma says under her breath. “Now you’re going to tell me Hercules and Meg are in Storybrooke.”

He shakes his head. “No, they came to the Underworld long ago. They actually play some very prominent roles in our storied history that I mentioned. Oh, and you also wanted to know why I am here, and that answer is quite simple.” Hades grins. “Because the Underworld’s in need of a Savior.”

She feels her anger rise up in her. “I never asked to be the Savior of anything.”

“Mmm, yes, you didn’t ask for it, but you were born for it. There’s only so much running we can do from our destiny, Emma, and I think you’ve reached the end of the road.”

“That is bullshit.”

“Always so blunt,” he says, delighted, “I love that about you. But unfortunately it is not bullshit, and you will be fulfilling it.”

Her hand with the dagger drifts behind her back unconsciously. “Now I’m tempted to not do it just to spite you.”

He notices her movement and assures, “Please don’t misunderstand me. I won’t be forcing you to do anything. I know how important it is to you to have control over your choices, so I can give you my word on the River Styx that I’ll never once pick up that dagger to take away your free will in the matter.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“More like a friendly ‘and,’ because I’d like for us to be friends, Emma. _And_ I’d like to help you in any way I can, including your awkward attempts at revenge upon the people who have wronged you.”

She stiffens slightly. “You don’t know what I’m planning.”

Hades chuckles, “Because _you_ don’t even know what you’re planning. Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve got a good start recruiting Zelena as a distraction, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, just as all Dark Ones need time to discover the tricks of their own trade.”

“I don’t need help.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Maybe you don’t think so now, but I have a feeling that you will. And when you do, I have something for you.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “You just said you needed me to be the Savior of the Underworld. I can’t help but feel like this is a deal.”

Hades sighs, and it seems as though he’s growing impatient with her. “Man, I knew that you had trust issues, but this is exhausting. Yes, I need you to save my realm, but you’re going to be doing it on your own terms. I would simply like to help you with your small side quest before we get there. No deals, no strings. Understand?”

Emma can’t think of an adequate response, but he doesn’t seem to be expecting one.

He steps toward the mouth of the cave, turning back only briefly to tell her, “When you need me, summon me with this.” He summons a small vial filled with red liquid, and places it on one of the fallen rocks.

His enigmatic instruction goes unexplained as he disappears in a startling column of blue flames, leaving Emma alone with the sea once more.

* * *

 

Zelena doesn’t consider herself particularly vain (years of seeing her green skin in the mirror had made her adverse to looking too closely or too often at her own reflection), but it feels like some sort of homecoming when she summons her dress, whisking away the drab clothing the hospital had deemed fit for her.

It still fits perfectly (she’s not showing yet) and as she slides her green gloves over her hands, she grins. She summons a crackling ball of magic in her hand, simply because she can. (Her magic might be weaker now that she’s been liberated from the pendant, but she doesn’t care because nothing can top the feeling of finally being _free_.)

“Look out, sis,” she says, “Your beloved town is going to burn.”

She transports herself in a swirl of green smoke right into the middle of Main Street.

* * *

 

There are Knights of the Round Table in their library. Honestly, it’s practically a dream come true for Henry. Even better, Ruby is the Knight who sits on Siege Perilous.

There are a lot of things in his life that absolutely, catastrophically suck right now, but sometimes living in Storybrooke is the absolute coolest.

He stands back, watching as Snow and Charming converse excitedly with Lancelot ( _Lancelot_ ), and Guinevere is here too, and she’s a freaking _Knight_. And then there’s Emrys, who Henry is viewing with interest because Emrys isn’t just any old name, but they’re talking about Merlin like he’s some ancient legend.

Unfortunately, they don’t get much time to talk.

If Leroy’s loud proclamations of _The Wicked Witch! The Wicked Witch is attacking!_ hadn’t alerted them to something being afoot, the bloodcurdling screams coming from outside the library’s walls would have.

The heroes and their new acquaintances from Camelot rush outside to see the commotion, and are met with utter chaos.

Hundreds of flying monkeys swarm the streets. They’d all faced some of Zelena’s preferred minions months ago when she was the reigning terror of Storybrooke, but it was always a manageable number. This was straight out of the movie--clouds of the monkeys were descending, their grotesque hands reaching down and snatching up innocent passersby.

In the middle of the assault was Zelena, looking for all the world as if she couldn’t be happier. She was using her magic to pull people from the buildings as they tried to seek shelter indoors. Her laugh was the stuff of nightmares.

“Bloody hell,” Hook says.

“We don’t have any weapons,” Snow says. “My bow is back at the loft.”

“So’s my sword,” Charmings says.

“Aye,” Hook agrees. “There’s only so much damage I can do with my hook.”

“Well, you buffoons might not have anything,” Mom says, summoning a fireball in her hand, “but I do.” Facing down an army of magical creatures with all the poise and confidence of the Evil Queen, Regina steps out into the street.

“Henry, stay inside,” Regina demands without turning.

“But Mom--”

“Henry,” she snaps, turning to meet his eye, “This is not a joke. I need you to stay inside and stay _safe_.” He’s about to protest again, because he’s not a kid anymore and she can’t keep treating him like one and he just wants to _help_ \--

“Come on, lad,” Hook says, nodding back towards the door. “Let’s get under cover,”

“But--” He’s cut off by a screech directly over his head, and he looks upwards to see a flying monkey quickly descending upon them.

He feels Hook pulling him down, trying to cover him, but then the monkey is bursting into ash from a fireball.

“Henry!” Mom snaps again. “Get inside!”

Henry allows Hook to drag him back inside the library doors.

They slam shut, but do little to dampen the sound of chaos outside.

“Stay here until one of us comes to get you, aye?”

“She’s just being overprotective,” Henry says, “I can help, you know I can.”

“When’s the last time you handled a sword?” Hook asks. “Because I know we put a hold on lessons since the Queens of Darkness came to town, so unless you’ve been training with the Prince or your mum without my knowledge, it’s been some time since you’ve been put through your paces. Now is not the time to allow pride to get in the way of common sense.”

“But we need all the help we can get. You saw how many of those things were out there,” Henry says.

“I’m well aware of our dire straits,” he answers, “but it’s not worth the risk of losing you.”

“So what, you want me to just sit here and wait?”

Killian is unrelenting. “Yes. Keep doing the research we started. Emma is still out there, needing your help. You need to focus on that fight.”

There’s a loud knocking on the door, “Hook! We need you out here!” yells Charming through the barrier.

“We’ll be back,” Hook says with finality before he heads back outside.

* * *

 

Regina is worried about Robin. She can practically feel him tense behind her with each peal of delighted, sadistic laughter that echoes up the avenue. Zelena hasn’t spotted them yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Regina, you can’t take them all by yourself,” Robin says.

“She won’t have to,” comes the voice of Red, flanked by her companions. Regina meets her determined eye, and the werewolf nods. “The Knights of the Round Table fight for all of those who are in need.”

Red removes her cloak, her eyes glowing yellow and the heavy, earthen transformation magic gathers inside of her as her fellow knights draw their swords. Emrys, whose magical signature is so blindingly light it’s almost like standing next to Emma, also summons a familiar offensive spell in his other hand.

“We’ll stand by you, your majesty,” he says to her, the first words Robin’s heard him speak.

She’s reluctant to leave her back protected by people she doesn’t even know, but Snow seems to trust them, and Regina is willing to trust her judgement.

“We just need to retrieve our weapons, and we shall come back and join you,” Hook says, returning sans Henry. Regina lets out a sigh of relief.

“No need,” Regina says, and conjures their weapons into their hands with a puff of smoke. She looks at Robin. “Keep them off my back. I’m going after my sister.”

He smiles, if a bit shakily, and Regina feels a surge of pride for him. He says with bravado she knows he doesn’t feel, “Anything milady requires.”

Regina focuses on Zelena, and steps out onto the street. She can hear the sounds of a fight beginning behind her, but she doesn’t look back.

“Zelena!” she shouts, capturing her sister’s attention.

“Consider this a gift!” she replies, her arms wide as she displays the horror she’s wreaking, “Courtesy of your new Dark One!”

Regina hears Snow’s sharp inhalation at Zelena’s statement, and does her best to ignore the jab herself.

“Don’t use Emma as an excuse,” Regina replies, and creates a fireball in her palm. “Why don’t you take responsibility for your own actions for once.”

“That is _rich_ coming from you,” Zelena sneers back. “But we’re not having this out now. I want to see the look on your face when everything you hold dear is decimated by my creations. I want to see the look on your face when I take your love’s child away from him for good. And only then will I destroy you.”

Zelena thrusts her hand into the air, and a chorus of screeching from above tells Regina what it is. A rallying point. “Kill them, my pretties,” Zelena commands.

Regina hurls the fireball at the Wicked Witch, but she disappears in a cloud of green before it lands.

She shouts in anger as the fight begins. Time is fluid in a fight, warping so that hours can seem like minutes, and seconds can stretch on for eternity, so Regina has no idea how much time passes with each fireball she throws. Regina can’t remember the last time she was in the middle of an all-sides assault, probably in the war she fought against Snow and Charming, but that was when she was the Evil Queen, when she _loved_ the carnage, when she laughed at each of the ragtag soldiers of Snow’s she took down.

Now though, with each one she takes down, she breathes a sigh of relief, but these are her citizens. They’re just innocent people who were taken hostage by Zelena’s spell and have no control over themselves. She hesitates, stumbles, when she feels her dark magic responding to that sentiment, reminding her that she _shouldn’t_ feel sorry, they’re the ones who wronged her to end up here, no one is innocent, she’s--

“Regina!” She hears Robin’s cry, turns to see what it is that he is so startled by, only to be met with a burst of ashes; one of Robin’s arrows falls to the ground as the magic disintegrates the corpse.

“I’m fine,” she calls back to him as she zaps another several of the creatures out of the sky as they draw closer to her.

“A simple thank you would suffice!” he answers, but she notes that it doesn’t carry its usual hint of teasing.

“I’ve got this under control,” she assures.

“All due respect, love,” calls Hook, sounding like he has absolutely no intention of giving her all due respect, “but we _do not_ have this under control. Not by half.”

She hates to admit that the pirate is right. There’s not enough of them to take on this many creatures. Robin and Snow only have so many arrows. Hook only has so many bullets he can load into his pistol, so many swings of his cutlass. David’s gun is already laying abandoned on the road, and his sword has its limits. Her magic isn’t a bottomless well (she can feel the beginnings of exhaustion pulling at the edges of her consciousness. She misses Emma more than ever.) Even with the Knights of the Round Table assisting them, they’ve barely been managing to hold them off from the library, let alone finding a permanent solution for the siege.

“We should fall back,” Snow says, falling in beside her. “Re-group.”

“We don’t have time to regroup,” Regina growls. “If you haven’t noticed, there’s an attack on our people.”

“And we are barely making a dent,” Snow answers, “We need a new plan.”

“Okay, fine, you fall back and make a plan. I’m staying out here.”

“Regina,” Snow says, exasperated, “Robin’s already had to shoot at least five of these things off of you that you didn’t see. We’re not leaving until you leave.”

“Then it looks like we’re doing this the hard way,” Regina says, summoning massive fireballs in her hands, “And I _love_ the hard way.” She keeps gathering her energy into the fireballs, building them in size and intensity until they dwarf her torso. With a determined lunge, she fires them into the sky.

Regina manages to clear a large radius around them, until more arrive to take the places of the ones she’d roasted. She growls in frustration, but if Snow thinks she’s just going to _run_ because things are difficult, then she’s got another thing coming--

“You know,” Robin calls over the din, “We might not have to fall back at all.”

“Yeah?” Regina asks, meeting his eyes despite the carnage happening around them.

“I think I have something of a plan.”

“Care to share, mate?” calls Hook as he manages to skewer one of Zelena’s creatures before it can take off with him.

He says to Regina, “I believe you’ve a friendly camaraderie with a few dragons, no?”

Regina grins. “Robin, you are a genius.”

* * *

 

It’s much easier to convince Maleficent and Lily to help than she thought it would be.

When Lily expresses concern about controlling herself in dragon form (they’ve apparently been working on it. Regina wonders how they haven’t set the forest ablaze.) Mal gives her a reassuring look, tells her, “I believe in you, and you won’t be alone.”

And Regina--Regina _gets it_ with a sudden clarity when she remembers how she would’ve done anything to set a good example for Henry, done anything to redeem herself in his eyes. She might not know much about Mal’s new relationship with her daughter, but she knows enough about motherhood to understand the desire to set your child on the right path.

In the end, it’s Robin who comes up with the plan to drive Zelena’s creatures (who were all innocent Storybrooke citizens, if Zelena followed her pattern from the last time.) towards the town line, where crossing would hopefully turn them back to normal.

It worked--better than Regina ever dared to hope. Guiding the confused and sometimes injured citizens back across the line was just as easy.

It set her on edge. Because if her experience had told her anything, it’s that as soon as she started feeling secure, she was being set to take the greatest fall.

* * *

 

Emma makes herself a house.

There’s very little outside the Dark One’s magical abilities, and she finds herself not drawing on her natural well of light magic, but rather the new, heady, eager-to-please dark magic that came along with the curse.

 _Imagine all you can do with this power_ , the darkness says.

She can.

It’s not far from town, and it looks over the sea. Killian would like that, she knows. She makes a bedroom for Henry. Gives him a big window and thick walls. Hers and Killian’s room is across the house, but... (Dark or not, she’s not going to expose her son to that.)

She makes an extra bedroom, too. It’s not like they talked about--

She just…

Just in case.

It’s nice to have a place. She feels less like she has no anchor, feels less lost.

_The burn of a flashlight through the back of the bug._

_“Miss, you can’t sleep here.”_

_“Are you in trouble? Do you have someplace to go?”_

When she’s finished, she remembers Hades’ visit.

She wants them to hurt, but the idea of killing them makes her ill in a way she wasn’t before.

_Those are your parents. Your mum and dad. Your home is where they are, right?_

But she’s still angry.

_They gave her a garbage bag to put all her clothes in, as if everything she owned was garbage--_

_Sometimes families just can’t have more than one, Mom says. They told her to call them Mom and Dad. That they were her Mom and Dad now._

_But Mom…_

_It’s Mrs. Swan, she answers. We liked having you live with us, but you’re going to go somewhere else now._

_But I wanna live here. Don’t make me leave._

_But they give her a garbage bag, not even the nice pink suitcase they gave her for Christmas last year, and they don’t let her take her teddy and she can barely breathe and her face is wet and she just wants them to let her stay, let her stay, she’ll be good, she promises, just don’t send me away, please let me stay--_

_Her social worker gives her tissues, smiles at her, tells her it’s all going to be okay, but it’s not because they were Mommy and Daddy, they told her that, they told her that they were gonna be a family, and now she’s in the car driving away from the house and they were--_

_They were gonna be a family._

And she’s not ashamed.

She looks down at the bottle Hades left her in her hand, and like a stroke of lightning, she knows what to do.

* * *

 

Regina finds Robin sweeping up glass in her living room, leftovers from Zelena’s attack.

“Hey,” she says softly.

He looks up and smiles at her. “Hello. Where’s Henry?”

Regina sighs. “I left him with Snow and David. With Zelena on the loose, I don’t want him near me when she tries something else. I figure Emma’s a much safer bet in terms of villains who won’t hurt him.” Regina can’t meet his eye when she says, “Even though Zelena’s fixated on hurting me through you and not him, I just don’t want to take the chance.”

“Just as you once told me, our children must come first.”

Regina nods silently as she steps further into her somewhat destroyed home. As Robin picks back up sweeping, she says, “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can fix all of this with a snap of my fingers.”

He chuckles as he bends to pick up the dustpan full of glass, but it lacks its usual mirth. “I always found menial household tasks a good way to numb the mind when I needed to stop thinking.” He looks up at her before he heads to the kitchen and presumably the trash can. “Different land, same habits.”

She follows him, leaning up against the counter as he dumps the glass. He leans the broom against the wall, sets down the dustpan, and copies her position, the heat of his body so close yet not quite touching.

Regina gently nudges him with her elbow. “I can’t imagine there were a lot of chores like this to do when you were living in the woods,” she says, trying to pull a smile out of him.

It works, but not to great effect. “You’d be surprised. Laundry’s a bit of a hassle when you haven’t got servants to do it for you,” he points out, but it’s without bite.

There’s a few moments of silence before Regina gathers the courage to ask, “Want to talk about why you’re feeling the need to numb your mind with sweeping?”

He breaks his eye contact with her, staring somewhere over her shoulder as he seems wont to do whenever she asks him about Zelena. And she _knows_  it’s about Zelena, but she wants to hear him say it. Wants him to just _talk_ to her.

Regina reaches up to his cheek, bringing his eyes back to hers. She says, “I don’t want to force you into it. I just want… I just want you to know that I’m here.”

“I know you are.” He turns his face into her palm slightly, kissing her hand.

Regina’s hand runs down his neck and to his shoulder. When the silence drags on she realizes she’s going to have to start this conversation. “It’s just that seeing her…” Regina begins, “There’s only so much time that we can put off talking about the baby. I know we’ve got months until they’re born, but this isn’t something that we can figure out with one conversation, Robin.”

He visibly swallows, and breathes out slowly, if a bit shakily. “I know. It already hurts because of…” He can’t seem to finish the sentence properly, and Regina reaches for his hand.

There are so many things she wishes she could ask him, but she just can’t. She won’t. She wants to ask him _why did you have sex with Marian_  and _why didn’t you trust me when I came to get you_  and _do you resent me because of Zelena_ … But she just holds them inside because he still can’t even talk about it, let alone having her interrogate him for her own peace of mind.

Robin finds his voice again. “And then it hurts all over again because the experience of having a child is what I always imagined having with you.” He nearly whispers it, like a quietly kept secret, and Regina’s heart just _drops_. “It’s what’s been getting me through this, thinking about how it’ll be better next time. When it’s you,” he admits, and she realizes she might be sick. “I know we never talked about having more,” he says, clearly misunderstanding her look and trying to comfort her, “but I love being a father, and you love being a mother, and I just assumed…”

She swallows hard and becomes aware of her chin trembling. “Regina, I’m so sorry for my presumption,” he says, clearly trying to backpedal, but she won’t allow that.

“No, no, it’s fine. I asked. There’s just…” She takes a steadying breath, clenches her jaw muscles to steady her chin. “I started this to talk about you, not me.”

“Regina, what I just said is affecting you, and you should tell me why. Generally, communication goes both ways. This isn’t just me unloading on you, it’s a dialogue.”

Regina might struggle with relationships, but she knows enough about them to know he’s not wrong. And as much as it might hurt her, he has the right to know about this. Has the right to know what he’s giving up by being with her.

(She’s scared.)

“Can we sit for this?” is her only request, his _of course_ leading them back out to the newly swept living room. Her couch is a little tattered, but still comfortable, and they sit facing each other.

Robin’s silence prompts her to begin.

(She’s _scared_.)

“There was a time when I was the Evil Queen when my mother became somewhat fixated on finding me a husband.”

“I thought you’d banished her to Wonderland?”

Regina scoffs, the self-deprecation heavy and cloying. “Banishment would infer that I had some sort of control over her. I wanted to believe I did, that I had somehow managed to free myself from her forever, but I was fooling myself.

“She found out about you. Well, not you you, exactly, but she discovered that my soulmate was a man with a lion tattoo. So she grabbed some lowlife, magicked a tattoo onto his arm, and forced us together.”

“And?”

“He was an awful, smarmy bastard.” Robin chuckles at that, and Regina finds herself smiling just a little bit. He makes it easier to visit this time of her life (but there’s still that ringing sense of doubt in the back of her mind keeping her from settling into his safety.) “It made me think…” She remembers the pain in her gut when she realized just what kind of man her mother’s pawn was. When she thought that _this_ was the man she was destined to be with.

She continues, “I strung him up in my dungeon over flames, but before that I made the tattoo come to life and had it attack him until he told me what my mother’s plan was.” The doubt at the back of her mind comes to the front, and Regina starts to get hesitant, choked up, scared.

“Regina,” he says gently, taking her hand. “It’s okay.” _God,_ but she wants to lay all of this at his feet and let him hold her. So she shoves the doubt away and lets herself fall into his safety.

It all comes out in a rush. “No, it’s not, because she set me up so that I would get pregnant, and even though I’d gotten rid of that man, I just--I couldn’t let her have control over me. I couldn’t let her have control over any… any child that I might have.”

Robin squeezes her hand, moving closer. Old habits make her tempted to back away, to rip her hand from his, to reject the warm comfort he offers her, but she’s not strong enough to face this alone again.

“So I… I drank a potion that would make me infertile.” It’s been years since, but it still stabs into her heart when she speaks the words.

“Oh, Regina.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t look at him, doesn’t want to witness his reaction. “You have to understand, no matter how much distance I put between us, no matter how much magic and anger and hatred I tried to protect myself with I...” She lets out a broken sob.

Robin pulls her to him then, very nearly pulls her into his lap in order to hold her close. She lets herself break apart with her face against his neck and as he kisses her hair. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers quietly. “It’s okay.”

Regina can only shake and cry in his arms, and in her head she can hear _weak, weak, weak, weak_  like an insistent pinprick.

“You are not weak; stop saying that,” Robin says, and she realizes she’s been saying it out loud.

“I’m sorry,” she says, getting a grip on herself and pulling away from him. He doesn’t let go of her hand, though, and that nearly makes her smile, but she has to make sure-- “I understand if this changes things between us--”

“Hey,” Robin interrupts, somewhat harshly. “What sort of man do you take me for that you think I’d abandon you like that?” 

She looks away from his gaze, because when he puts it like _that_...

 A finger under her chin lifts her eyes back to his. “When I fell in love with you, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I knew we would be messy, and complicated, but I had faith that we could figure it out together. I admit, things have maybe been a bit messier than I once thought,” he says with a smile that she knows he’s putting on just to make her feel better, “but nothing you tell me can make me love you any less.”

She feels tightness in her throat again, but she’s determined to not allow herself to cry again. “How can you say that? I’ll never be able to give you… I’ll never be able to give you what she gave you. We can never have that.”

He stiffens against her. Robin is one of the genuinely warmest people she’s ever known, so it sends a chill down her spine when his voice goes cold, “What she’s given me is sleepless nights because of nightmares, this fear inside me that I can’t abate, and more anger than I’ve lived with in a very long time. I try to be a good man. An honorable man. Yet she’s inspired more hatred and fear in me than I’ve felt in my lifetime. That’s what she’s given me.

“But you…” He softens. “You’ve given me love, family, a home. Hope for a future that’s better than the past I’ve left behind.” He laughs and looks away from her, but it lacks its usual warmth. “I sometimes feel as though I’ve given you nothing in return.”

“Don’t say that,” Regina insists immediately, prompting his gaze back to hers with a gentle hand on his chin. “Don’t. Even if that were remotely true, love doesn’t keep score.”

* * *

 

The sight of the horizon on the ocean was always a scene that had calmed him in the past. Leaning against the railing of the pier, he listens to the consistent lap of the waves on the rocky shoreline, tries to tune out the annoying screeches of seagulls overhead, and attempts to lose himself in the gentle hum of life in the harbor.

It doesn’t quiet his mind, not the way he’d like it to.

Without thinking, his hand goes up to the inside pocket of his jacket, and he pulls out his flask. It’s nearly full, but he hesitates before he pulls off the cap. Instead, he just holds it, turning it over again and again.

It’s not every day that he explicitly wishes he could talk to Liam; not a day goes by where he doesn’t wish his brother hadn’t passed on the way he did, but it’s not often he feels the violent ache in his chest to just speak with his older brother, to hear his voice and take his comfort. He’s had far too long being his own man to feel it much anymore. Two hundred or so years will do that.

But today is the first day in quite some time where he wishes he could take Liam’s counsel, just one more time. Wishes he could ask him what to do. Wishes he could ask him how to be a good man.

He realizes he’s being stupid when his longing becomes so strong it shakes his hand.

Liam is long gone.

He moves to unscrew the cap of his flask when he hears the sound of feet on the pier behind him.

He turns to see David walking towards him. Emma’s father doesn’t bother with platitudes as he settles his forearms over the railing, copying Killian’s position and saying, “Didn’t see you at the hospital. I was worried you might’ve gone and turned into a monkey on us.”

“No need to worry,” he assures. His grin feels like wood. “I wasn’t infected with Zelena’s magic. There were others who needed far more medical attention than I.”

“Still. Snow and I were worried about you.”

“Am I growing on you, your highness?” he asks, looking for an eyeroll and a snide remark about his piracy and villainy.

Charming rolls his eyes, predictably, but then-- “Of course you are,” David says, “Even if you and Emma weren’t together, I think you would be.”

The way Charming says it, as though their care is simply a given, shatters any pretense he had. A quiet “Oh,” slips from him.

“Don’t get mushy on me,” Charming warns.

Killian chuckles, still floored. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“We _were_ worried about you, you know. Snow was ready to send out a search party.”

He smiles tightly. “My apologies for causing any undue stress. You both already have enough on your minds without concerning yourselves over me.”

“You don’t need to do that, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Act as though you’re fine. You and Emma both do that a lot. Drives me nuts.”

“I will be fine once we figure out how to save her,” he says.

“I don’t think that’s all of it,” David says. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but you ditching out on us after the fight wasn’t like you.”

“I needed some space,” Killian says curtly, fully prepared to be as unpleasant as he needed to be to be left alone, before following up with, “What’s with the interrogation, Charming?”

Now it seems David’s the one who’s reticent as he looks down at his hands and presses his palms together. “With Emma gone, we just wanted you to know that we’re here for you. Snow told me what you said to her last night, about Emma, and I just…” He twists his hands again. “I wanted to make sure you still had someone to talk to.”

It’s said so quietly and sincerely that Killian almost wants to make sure it isn’t Zelena wearing another glamour spell to fool him.

(It also causes the tightness in his chest to return.)

“That is you in there, isn’t it, Dave?” he asks, only half joking.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” David says with a reluctant grin. “But I can’t have Emma as a daughter and not know what deflecting looks like.”

Killian feels a smile pulling at his lips, but he can’t say anything, and David doesn’t push further; he just looks at him with that earnest caring and it’s a shock again to realize that Emma’s not the only one who wants him, who cares for him.

“I’m afraid,” Killian quietly admits. “In my life, I’ve… I’ve not been the most admirable man. Before my brother got us into the Navy, even, I was a compulsive gambler, a drunk, and had a short fuse on my temper. Being in the Navy helped. The regimented, habitual system helped. But really, it was Liam who kept me on the path of righteousness. When he died, I was right back where I started. A drinking, gambling, angry man who now had a crew and a ship to act as the instrument of his revenge.”

“But you’ve changed,” David says. “We’ve all seen it.”

“But how much of that change was completely contingent upon Emma being there to remind me to not slip back into the darkness? You remember the year we went back to the Enchanted Forest. I went right back…” He swallows hard, his shame causing his face to flame hot, “I missed Emma so much, but instead of doing what she would’ve wanted and staying to help you all, I went right back to being what I was to try to forget. What if I’m simply not meant to be a man who can stand in the light on his own?”

David is silent a beat before saying, “Do you want to be here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Here. With this family. Fighting for good in Storybrooke. With Emma. With people who now count you as a trusted friend. Do you want this?”

Killian nods without hesitation. “More than anything.”

“No one dragged you back into the light kicking and screaming. If there’s enough light inside you to be awoken by someone, then that tells me there’s hope that it can grow.”

“But I don’t know how,” he says impulsively, but it feels like a tremendous weight off his chest. Then he can’t stop, “It’s like I’ve always needed some kind of crutch. Someone to constantly be there to stop me.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” David says, “You use a crutch until you can walk on your own. That’s not weakness, that’s healing.”

“I suppose I’ve just used one for so long I don’t remember what that’s like.”

“Then we’ll help you.”

David makes it all sound so simple, and it causes the breath to catch in his throat. Dozens of glib lines are at the edge of his tongue, things to diffuse the tension, things to make David walk away from him, things that would stitch the gaping wound in his chest that he’s now let David see, but instead, he silently looks back to his flask.

His chest aches for a drink, but...

“Then I think perhaps I’ll… ease off the imbibing. For now, at least.” He meets David’s eyes and smiles. “I’ve got to start walking on my own at some point, right?”

David claps an affectionate hand on his shoulder, and even though Killian’s brother has been dead and gone for hundreds of years by now, he’d never forgotten that warm bite of brotherly affection that takes root in his chest and blooms outward.

Feeling it again makes him feel as though David might be right about him. He certainly hopes so.

* * *

 

It’s a blood libation. Where that knowledge came from, Emma doesn’t entirely know, but the darkness guides her, pushing her like an instinctual urge as she prepares the summoning. The grooves she’s gouged in the ground look similar to Zelena’s old time travel spell, and she upends the bottle in the middle of the stylized circle outside her house.

Hades appears not seconds later.

“I was afraid you might hold out on me a bit longer than I’d planned for,” he says.

She ignores him in favor of asking, “Why did you give this to me?” She holds up the now empty vial. “There are dozens of easier summoning spells, and you gave me a blood libation. I could’ve done _anything_ with this. Entrapment spells, torture spells, spells that could make you spill every dirty secret you have, even. Why give me this much power for a summoning?”

Hades smiles. “So, the darkness is helping you. That’s good. You’ll need it.”

“Answer me,” Emma says curtly, impatient.

He cocks his head to the side, shaking it slightly. “Still with the distrust, Emma. I did this to prove to you that I have no hidden agenda. I’m not trying to trick you or take advantage of you. I just need your help. As much as you say being the Savior is a burden, I know somewhere deep down you like it. Gives you a sense of purpose, a reason to be here amongst these characters from stories and myth.”

“Don’t assume you know anything about me, buddy,” Emma says. “Just because I called you here doesn’t make us friends.”

“I’m well aware, but you calling me here means that you want my help,” he says, “and I’m here to give it. I’m in possession of a spell that I think will work perfectly for your revenge.”

“It’s not revenge,” Emma insists.

Hades shrugs. “Potato, potahto. You might not call it revenge, but you want them to understand why you’re angry and you want them to hurt because of it. Isn’t that what vengeance is all about, at its core?”

“I didn’t call you here so that you could talk philosophy at me. What is this spell?”

Hades replies, “You already have some experience with a weaker version of it. Kudos to you, by the way, for doing it on your own. Impressive, that.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“Your little projection you unwittingly forced upon your family and friends when you changed. _That’s_ your spell, and that’s how you’re going to get your revenge on your parents. And before you get up in arms, it’s not going to kill them or cause them bodily harm.”

She’s silent a beat, then asks, “What would it do to them?”

“It’s like a sleeping curse, in a way. They’ll be locked into the vision you’re giving them, no way to escape or wake up. Well, True Love’s kiss, of course, but since they’ll both be under at the same time, there’s no risk of that happening.

“You’re lucky your parents share a heart,” Hades continues, “considering how tricky some of the ingredients will be to obtain. You’ll only need to make one spell to affect them both,” Hades says.

“What kind of ingredients?”

“For one thing, you’ll need the crushed dust of an untainted heart. I think you know where we can get one.”

Emma breathes out, a fierce smile cutting across her face. “Rumplestiltskin.”


	3. Small Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under Hades’ guidance, Emma’s actions as the Dark Swan escalate, and Regina and Robin are shaken by their predicament with Zelena. Henry finds himself dragged into a drama far more complex than a black and white game of heroes and villains while Belle and Killian search for a breakthrough in light of new revelations. The Knights of the Round Table are keeping secrets as the tension in Storybrooke draws toward an inevitable explosion.

_“It’s like a sleeping curse, in a way. They’ll be locked into the vision you’re giving them, no way to escape or wake up. Well, True Love’s kiss, of course, but since they’ll both be under at the same time, there’s no risk of that happening._

_“You’re lucky your parents share a heart,” Hades continues, “considering how tricky some of the ingredients will be to obtain. You’ll only need to make one spell to affect them both,” Hades says._

_“What kind of ingredients?”_

_“For one thing, you’ll need the crushed dust of an untainted heart. I think you know where we can get one.”_

_Emma breathes out, a fierce smile cutting across her face. “Rumplestiltskin.”_

“He’s unconscious in his shop,” Emma says. “No one will protect him. I don’t think even Belle has any sympathy left in her. He’s done too much for that.”

She turns to go, but halts when Hades suddenly appears directly in her path. “Not so fast, Savior. You can’t just kill him,” he says.

She feels her rage bubble up inside of her as she approaches him and hisses, “I  _will_  just kill him. Do you have any idea what he’s done to the people I love? He deserves every bit of the pathetic death that’s coming for him.”

Hades is unruffled. “I’m not discouraging you from ending his long and bloody life. I’d personally love to see the man blundering his way through the Underworld, given how many of its residents he personally put there. No, there’s simply a small hitch that comes along with the untainted heart.”

“And that is?”

“The exact words in the spell are ‘an untainted heart willingly given.’ Rumplestiltsken needs to give you his heart of his own free will, or else your spell goes nowhere. And unless there’s a baby somewhere in Storybrooke whose untainted heart you’d be willing to sacrifice, the old Dark One is your only choice.”

Emma’s rage is replaced by the feeling of deep illness and she steps back as though she’s been slapped. “A baby?” she chokes.

Hades answers blithely, “Children are born already willing to give their hearts. How their heart grows depends on who they happen to give it to.” He shrugs, nonchalant. “Quite a tragedy in some cases, but such is life. So unless you’d like to make a sweep through Storybrooke’s maternity ward, I’d start thinking of ways to get Rumplestiltsken to give you his heart.”

“Belle,” she says immediately. “He’ll give it up for Belle.”

Hades raises a brow. “And how do you plan on orchestrating this grand exchange?”

Emma feels her light magic stirring,  _the weaker version of you, Emma Swan,_  and feels like she should be regretting what she’s about to say. She should be feeling a sympathetic response, that frisson of moral disquiet running through her heart.

 _You are no longer nothing, Emma Swan, we made sure of that_. The whisper of the darkness once felt so out of place, an intrusion in her mind. Now it’s--

It’s a part of herself she didn’t know was missing.

“I’ll find Belle. Take her quietly so no one comes looking for her. We find a way to wake Gold. He’ll exchange his life for hers.” It’s easy. It’s so easy, and Emma wants to laugh because she’d never even opened her eyes before this. There’s always been a clear path to what she wants, she just never had the strength to take it.

Hades looks pleased. “Concise, neat, with that lovely Dark One twist. I think you’re getting a hang of this, Emma.”

She can’t help but smile.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Belle veritably bursts into the library, startling Hook and Henry out of their attempts to continue researching.

Henry’s mom and his grandparents are orchestrating repair efforts to fix the damage done to the city by Zelena and her minions, while Robin is coordinating the Merry Men and the Camelot knights in search and rescue efforts.

The hunt for Emma is temporarily postponed while they recover.

Henry’s more than a bit sour on that. He knows Hook feels similarly, but it seems the pirate has focused his frustrated energies into researching as quickly and effectively as possible. Henry wishes that he could do the same, but all he feels is worry and angry impatience deep in his gut. Hopefully whatever Belle has will make him feel like they are being productive.

“I have something,” is all she says at first, stalking over to their table, dubbed ‘Command Central,’ with singular purpose.

“What is it?” Henry and Hook ask in unison, abandoning their current pursuits in favor of listening to Belle.

Command Central is organized chaos with sections of books and papers separated by realm of origin, and subsections dedicated to fiction, non-fiction, and unknown. Anyone who doesn’t know Hook’s and Belle’s system would just see a mess, Henry supposes.

Belle starts sorting through the pile dedicated to fiction from Camelot. “Do we…” she mutters something to herself. She looks at Killian. “ _The Epic Histories of Merlin_. I know I saw it somewhere--”

Hook immediately reaches for the Misthaven pile and slides one of the older books from underneath. “The author was from Misthaven,” he reminds gently.

“Right,” Belle nods, and takes the book from him. She mutters something else as she begins to flip.

“Perhaps speaking so that we can hear you would help, love,” Killian quips.

“Oh,” she looks up. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just that this,” she lays her finger down on a page, “is the only story that we’ve found that mentions the Dark One in relation to Excalibur.”

Henry leans over to look at the page Belle is referencing. The War of Humans and Hades. “Hades?” Henry asks.

“Excalibur?” Hook asks.

Belle says, “I’m not sure about Hades, but Excalibur is the important part. Ruby inferred that there’s a connection between the Dark One and Excalibur.”

Henry’s brow furrows. “‘Inferred?’”

Belle sighs. “It seems like the Knights of the Round Table, or the Council of Merlin, aren’t very generous with what information they share.”

Hook scoffs. “Bad form to ask for trust but offer none in return.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Belle says, “but if Ruby is with them, then I don’t think we should distrust them either.” Hook bristles a little. “Look, they helped us when Zelena attacked. You wouldn’t risk life and limb for a group of people you don’t know unless you had good in you.”

Henry interrupts before Hook can voice more dissent, “We can talk about whether to trust them or not later. What does it say in the story?”

Belle flips a couple of pages, “There’s a bit on the Underworld and Hades… the build up to this war… um… here it is:

“‘To save the realms and the cause of the human race, the great wizard Merlin wove the darkness wielded by the god of the Underworld into a curse. He planned to destroy it and restore the balance with the sword of power, Excalibur. Unfortunately, the Godkiller agent of Hades shattered the sword in two, changing its magic and destroying the great wizard’s plans.

“‘With the sword broken and it’s power fractured, a brave soul was forced to step forward and take the curse, acting as a vessel for the Darkness which the two pieces of Excalibur would contain.’”

“I think I heard about this,” Hook says suddenly. “Well, not this exactly, but in my quest to destroy the Dark One, I’d heard whispers of another dagger, one that could kill the Dark One and not pass on the curse. I’d always assumed it was just a story.”

Belle nods. “Listen: ‘If the sword, broken, it’s forger long dead, could be rejoined, it could end the Dark One for all of time.’”

Hook growls, “Sounds an awful lot like killing to me.”

Belle gives him a look. “It could mean that, but you know how magic has back doors.”

Henry says, “Okay, whatever it does, wouldn’t it be helpful to figure out where Excalibur was?”

“Oh!” Belle exclaims. “That’s the other thing. Emrys has it.”

“Emrys,” Henry says. “The wizard with Ruby?”

Nodding, she pushes the book over to Henry. “I’m thinking… the other ‘dagger’ that you heard about, Hook, is Excalibur.”

Killian drags a hand over his chin in contemplation. “If the sword Emrys carries is broken, we would never know. He didn’t take it out once during the fighting.”

“If they have a way to stop Emma and end the Dark One curse,” Belle wonders, “then why wouldn’t they just tell us?”

Hook scoffs again. “They likely know we’d object to killing her, I’d imagine.”

Belle looks at him sharply. “Ruby said they’re going to do everything they can to keep it from coming to that.”

“A fancy way of saying, ‘We’re leaving enough room for failure.’”

She gives him another look. He appears only slightly chastened. Henry feels a bit out of place as Belle softens and says, “Look, I understand what you’re feeling better than anyone, but your fatalism isn’t going to help Emma. But you know what will?” She turns, grabs the biggest book that she can find, and plops it down in front of him. “More research.”

They settle into their system, and Henry truly feels like a third wheel now, but at least they have a bit more direction after Ruby’s veiled revelations: find more information on how the Dark One and Excalibur are related. The War of Humans and Hades is unhelpfully vague, as it doesn’t include any new information about the Dark One, Hades’ place in all this, or how to reunite Excalibur. Belle takes the book to scour it for more clues in other stories while Killian starts filing through some of the other books they’ve gathered.

Henry, as usual, is relegated to fetching duty. He feels like he has a good enough grasp on the Dewey Decimal System at this point to be a librarian in the Library of Congress. At least at that job he wouldn’t feel as though Belle and Hook were awkwardly trying to include them in their operation.

Right, and his mom was still missing. With no one looking for her. He thought he’d at least have an ally in Killian for that particular crisis, but it looks like he’s decided to clench his jaw and wait.

“Hey Henry?” Belle’s soft voice breaks him out of his reverie, and when he looks up he has to bite down the urge to scream because she’s holding up a little piece of paper with a call number written on it. “Would you mind getting this book for us?”

He has to swallow down the snarky retort and an eyeroll. “Sure,” he replies flatly, and walks into the shelves.

The book is in a back corner, Hook’s and Belle’s voices dampened by the thick tomes of paper surrounding him. He pulls it off the shelf--the library sticker on the spine is new in contrast to the worn leather cover, and the title is in some language Henry doesn’t know. He tucks it under his arm and takes a step towards the front of the library when there’s a shimmer of magic, a red dome sealing over him, and then:

“Hello.”

Henry nearly jumps straight out of his skin and the book falls to the floor with a slap, and Henry whirls around to see Emrys standing behind him. He breathes in relief, but only just. Hook hadn’t been wrong about Storybrooke’s newcomers--sometimes people aren’t as trustworthy as they seem. His eyes go immediately to the sword at Emrys’ side, the red gem at the base glowing faintly. Excalibur.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Emrys says. Henry’s gaze then darts towards where Hook and Belle appear frozen in place, bent over the table. “No need to worry,” Emrys assures, “I’ve frozen us in a moment of time. We can converse without being heard or missed.”

He looks around them pointedly. “The privacy bubble doesn’t really inspire confidence in your trustworthiness, buddy.”

His shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. “I need you to hear me out, and I’m afraid your companions over there might not be so accommodating. You are important, Henry, more than you can possibly know.”

“Last time I believed someone when they said that, it almost got my whole family killed,” Henry says, remembering Neverland and the heady rush he got when Pan told him that he was the Savior. That  _he_  would be the one to save everyone.

“That was before you were the Author,” Emrys replies.

“Wait, how do you know about that?” Henry asks, backing up until he is at the very edge of the bubble.

“Well, my Apprentice was in charge of overseeing all of you. I always know exactly who has the pen.”

It takes an instant for the answer to fall into place for Henry. “You’re Merlin.”

He smiles. “Got it in one. Knew it was a good choice to make you the Author. Creating that quill was no easy task, so it’s good to see it in promising hands.”

Henry’s brow furrows. “Wait, creating... The way my mom explains it makes it sound like magic is energy transference. You know, Newton’s Third Law, can’t be created or destroyed and all that.”

“I’m unaware of this sorcerer you speak of, but he is correct. Magic cannot be created nor destroyed. Unless, of course,” Merlin says, halting Henry’s protest, “you’re you.” Merlin seems to find that amusing and smiles broadly, but Henry doesn’t share his mirth.

“What?”

“I did not create the magic in the pen, merely harnessed the power of creation.”

“I still don’t-- I can create magic?”

Merlin gives a small shrug. “If done carefully.”

“That’s-- but--”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Merlin concedes. “I’m the first human who was given magic and have been alive longer than you can comprehend, and even I still can’t always fully explain its ways.”

Henry’s mind is reeling, a dozen questions coming to mind, but feeling a bit dumb when the first thing that tumbles out of his mouth is, “Is that how you look so young?”

He smiles, if a bit sadly, and gestures to his face. “I have Zeus to thank for this.”

Henry almost laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Next thing you’re going to tell me is that Prometheus and Athena and Jupiter are all real.”

“They were,” Merlin answers, “until all the gods of old were slain because of the savage ambition of one brother who felt he’d been looked down upon.”

He doesn’t need much more than a bare knowledge of Greek mythology and popular culture to know that one. “Hades?”

If Merlin is surprised by Henry’s knowledge, it doesn’t show. “Hades razed the entire realm and joined it with the Underworld.”

“So how did you get your powers if Hades destroyed all the gods?”

Merlin seemed to settle in, and Henry got the sense that he needed to pay close attention to what he was about to say. “Zeus escaped, and managed to find his way to one of the realms of the humans; you know it as the Enchanted Forest.

“Prometheus had risked his godhood many years before to give us fire. Artemis had been secretly blessing hunts for centuries. Many gods over the years had used their power to help us, even though it was forbidden.

“These gods sang many praises of the human capabilities of strength, resilience, and their surprising capacity for goodness. Zeus had once dismissed these praises, but once Olympus was gone…”

“He had to listen,” Henry deduces. Merlin nods. “So… he gives you magic. You… give it to other people? And why did you create the Author?”

Merlin grimaces ever so slightly. “I was not the only one to whom magic was given. And the way magic spread...”

“Let me guess,” Henry asks drily, “It’s a long story?”

Merlin has the decency to look a little sheepish. “I’m afraid there’s much you don’t know, and that I do not have the time to share with you.”

“Well, considering you told me we’re in a suspended time bubble, I’d say this is probably the most time we’re going to get in Storybrooke with Zelena and my mom still out there,” Henry says.

“I cannot hold this spell forever,” Merlin says. “It is similar to the magic that went into creating Pandora’s box,” he explains, “and that was truly an undertaking without compare.”

“Was that you too?” Henry asks.

The dark look crosses Merlin’s face again. “Pandora’s Box was not a creation of mine, no.” He waves a hand. “But we’re getting off track. Henry, as the Author, you hold the key to ending the Dark One curse forever.”

Merlin’s declaration is met with Henry’s sharp intake of breath. “But I--I broke the Author’s quill, I can’t--”

With a simple gesture, Merlin reproduces the quill in his fingers and holds it out to Henry. “Magic, as your sorcerer Newton said, isn’t created nor destroyed, but transferred. Generally back to the person who cast it. Now,” he wiggles the quill in his fingers, “care to take this back? It is rightfully yours, after all.”

Henry takes the quill back, and it feels like coming home, in a way. Like he never should have let it go in the first place. “So what do I need to do to save my mom?”

Merlin looks around at the bubble. “I seem to have wasted quite a good deal of time telling you about my history, so I will have to be brief--”

Henry feels a flash of annoyance. “No, you need to explain everything to me now. My mother is tied to the Dark One curse. She took it on to save all of us! And now we need to save her.”

Merlin gives him a tight smile, and Henry sees him wave a hand across the arc of the bubble. It shimmers once again. Merlin shudders, ever so slightly, but the momentary lapse is gone in a moment. “There is a way to save your mother and destroy the Dark One forever. You know that the curse is tied to the Dark One dagger, yes?” Henry nods. “That is the lost piece of Excalibur,” Merlin says, the intensity of his gaze pinning Henry like a moth to a board. The wizard reaches for his belt, and Henry hears the sharp <i>sling</i> of metal on scabbard.

The intricately crafted sword reeks of ancient power, the designs on the blade reaching from the base to the end, where the sword abruptly ends. Where it is shattered, Henry can see the beginnings of the wave-blade and black-burned etchings characteristic of the Dark One’s dagger.

“This is no ordinary sword. It was forged by Prometheus himself to be powerful enough to hold the darkness. I can’t simply take the dagger and put them together back, not even with my magic.” He resheathes the sword and places a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “The only person who can reforge them is the Author, using the pen to write them together.”

Henry’s brow furrows. “Wait, but that’s--” He looks down at the pen in his hand and back at Merlin. “You’re asking me to change things.”

“Not things, Henry. Just one.”

He steps away from Merlin, shaking the wizard’s hand from his shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m not supposed to do! The Apprentice told me altering reality will have consequences.”

“It can, if done improperly. Look at the last Author. We’re not trying to create a different reality, but very slightly alter this one. And by doing so, you will save your mother.”

“There has to be another way,” Henry insists.

“Perhaps there is,” Merlin says, “but we don’t have the time to find it. Right now, this is the best solution.”

Henry bristles. “You keep using ‘not having time’ as an excuse, and I don’t get it. I don’t trust you, and I won’t trust you until you find the time to actually explain to me what’s really going on.”

“There’s no time, Henry,” Merlin says slowly, “because the longer I’m here, the more likely it is that the Dark One will discover that fact. We’re acquainted, and it won’t be happy to see me again. And if the Dark One finds out I’m here…” Merlin visibly shivers. “Something much worse won’t be far behind.”

“Something worse?” Henry asks.

“The being I helped lead a war against. The god who is responsible for the creation of the Dark One curse. He’s the reason Zeus granted me eternal youth--so that I could keep him and the Dark One in check.”

 _Hades,_ Henry realizes.  _Hades is responsible for all of this._

Merlin continues, “If Hades comes here…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now. We must prevent it from happening, and the only way we can do that is by saving your mother.

“Emma Swan is a part of something much larger than you realize. Being the Savior is no small thing,” Merlin says, tone flat and commanding, “This is the only opportunity we will have to destroy this curse without taking a life until another Savior voluntarily takes it on. That has not happened since its inception. We cannot afford to fail, and our success hinges on you.”

“You’re saying… that since she’s the Savior you can destroy the Dark One without killing her?”

Merlin nods. “If we can find a way to pull the curse from her, we can destroy it.”

“What about True Love’s Kiss?” Henry asks.

“Possible, but unlikely. The Dark One curse is a strange beast. Loving is still possible, but hard to keep pure.”

Henry feels a pang deep in his chest, and it’s not pride; not this time.

It’s fear. He doesn’t want to be the one to have to do this. In this moment, he would give anything to go back to before he was the Author.

“I know you and your family have been working non-stop to free Emma,” Merlin continues, reaching down to the floor to pick up the book Henry had dropped. Merlin holds it out to him. “but you are only hitting dead ends. And you’ll continue to hit dead ends until you decide to help me. You’re a brave young man, Henry. I have faith you’ll make the right decision.”

Henry takes the book back, but before he can say anything else, the magical dome deteriorates, and Merlin disappears right along with it. A cold brush of air sweeps past him as he rejoins the normal flow of time. An errant scrap of paper swoops past him, fluttering and settling a few feet in front of him.

“Henry? What was that?” Hook calls, but Henry barely hears him.

His eyes are still locked on the space Merlin had just been occupying. “It was nothing,” he answers, barely remembering why they sent him back here in the first place as he shuffles the book beneath his arm and turns back towards the front of the library.

But if what Merlin told him was true, then this book would hold no answers.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Several hours had passed since they’d reengaged their research efforts on finding Merlin, and Killian’s already thin patience had vacated him around hour two. If yet another suggestion given by his research partners fails to produce the mythical wizard himself in front of them, Killian can’t promise that he won’t snap.

Beneath his annoyance lies an undercurrent of worry. Henry had been strangely reticent for most of those hours. When he did speak, he was curt and a bit rude. Killian and Belle had shared a few looks over these moments, both assuming his attitude was simply the result of teenage maturity and the stress that they were all under, but Killian suspects it might be more than that.

Adding to his worry, Belle had received a call from the fairies watching over Rumplestiltsken just under an hour ago. Something about their services being needed with an individual infected by one of Zelena’s flying minions, and wondered if Belle wanted to come keep an eye on her comatose husband. “I shouldn’t be gone too long,” she had said, but as the clock ticks closer to the hour mark, Killian feels his worry begin to outweigh his annoyance.

The door of the library opens, and Killian looks up eagerly, hoping to see Belle back safe and sound. Instead, he sees Ruby, concern etched on her features.

“Hey, is Belle around here?”

Killian shakes his head. “She was called to her husband’s side so the fairies could visit a victim of Zelena’s spell. I imagine you’d find her there.”

“What? All the victims are out of the hospital. I was just with the fairies. They’re still with Rumplestiltsken and we haven’t seen Belle.”

“But she said--” He meets Henry’s gaze over the table and feels his stomach drop. “That’s not possible,” he says urgently, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He swiftly dials Belle’s number, trying to keep his hand steady despite the tension creeping up his neck. Each passing second sees fear being etched onto Ruby’s face.

With each tinny ring, his flimsy hope that maybe this is all just an innocent misunderstanding disintigrates. Ruby steps closer. “Anything?”

He swears when he hears  _Hi, you’ve reached Belle French_  and slams his phone to the table.

“We’ve got to find her,” Ruby says, her eyes glowing faintly yellow.

Killian can feel his anger and frustration beginning to boil. “We don’t even know where she is. Why would Zelena lure Belle into a trap?”

“Zelena?” Ruby asks.

Henry replies, “Who else would want to take her?”

Ruby laughs harshly. “Emma’s the Dark One! Belle knows more about magic than just about anyone, and we have no idea what is up her sleeve.”

“But if Zelena wanted to hurt Rumple,” Henry says, “the best way to do that is through Belle.”

“She’s not just some bargaining chip!” Ruby shouts. Her eyes flash bright yellow before she closes them, taking a calming breath. “We do not have time to sit here arguing about who took her and why. All we know is that someone lured Belle out and now we can’t find her.” Ruby’s eyes open again, their natural brown once more. “I’m going to look for her. If I can pick up her scent, I can track her down.”

“I’m coming with you,” Henry and Killian say at the same time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Belle moans as she comes to, her head feeling like it’s filled with cotton. She’s seated, her back pressed against something rough, solid, and cold with her hands lying limply at her sides. A shiver zips up her legs and she curses herself for wearing a skirt. Her eyes flicker open and she tips her head forward, the aftereffects of whatever magical knockout potion took her down quickly slinking away.

She’s in some sort of cave--if she had to guess, she’d say she was in the mines, but mysterious caves seem to pop up all over the place in Storybrooke. There’s some sort of magical barrier blocking the only entrance to the cavern, a spell that she doesn’t recognize. It ripples like water, glimmering iridescent in the near darkness. The only sources of light are two torches high on the walls--Belle wonders if she might be able to reach one.

“Wake him up,” Belle hears, and she whips her head around to see Emma Swan standing against the right side of the cavern.

Next to her, underneath a thick blanket and lying on a stone pedestal, is Belle’s husband.

Her first instinct is to shout.  _Stop. Don’t hurt him._

She doesn’t act on that instinct. She rises to her feet, unsteady as the effects of the magic wear off, and instead says earnestly, “Emma, whatever you’re doing, it’s not worth darkening your heart. We can help you fix this. We can find a way to save you.”

Emma fixes Belle with a coldly condescending look and for a startlingly selfish moment, Belle is glad it’s Emma holding the curse rather than her husband. She couldn’t handle it if he was the one imprisoning her.  _Again._

“Everyone seems to want to fix me these days. Tell me, Belle,” Emma says, pacing in front of her leisurely. “Why couldn’t Rumplestiltsken give up this curse? Hm?”

Belle’s breath catches. “A curse isn’t a curse if the afflicted wants it.”

Emma nods sagely. “What would you have done?” she asks. “What would you have done to snag yourself a completely uncursed Rumple? Quite a lot, I imagine, given how much you seemed to love him. Still love him, maybe.”

Belle doesn’t answer, pressing her lips together in a stubborn show.

Emma is not amused. “Regardless of how you now feel about him, I need him, and I need him awake.” She considers. “Would a True Love’s kiss work, do you think? I’m sure his love for you is plenty, but what about yours for him?” Emma shrugs. “I wouldn’t blame you for not loving him anymore. He’s treated you like an object for so long, someone that he can just bring along for his ride no matter how battered and bruised you get from being dragged behind him. But it was never enough,” Emma says, voice going soft, almost understanding. “You were never enough.”

“Stop,” Belle protests weakly.

“No,” Emma replies. “I need him awake, and I need to know if True Love’s kiss can do it. So, dearest Belle, if you still truly love him, call me a liar and wake him up.”

She remembers her marriage vows as though they were said yesterday. Yearns for the simplicity of their short honeymoon, for the blissful early days of their marriage when she was completely unaware of what kind of man her husband really was.

Which isn’t--

That’s not right. She’s always known, she’d just always managed to convince herself that she would be enough.

Something falls into place for Belle in that cave, with a new Dark One staring down at her with quiet menace and the man she thought she’d always wanted with his life in her hands.

A lone tear falls when she finally answers, “I can’t.”

Deep relief swells in her, so strong and potent she nearly gasps, the power of admitting that she doesn’t love him anymore, that she doesn’t forgive him for everything he’s done, everything he’s done to her, nearly knocks the wind out of her.

( _She’ll never be lied to again, controlled or manipulated or invaded by him, will finally feel safe in her own skin._ )

“I was afraid of that,” Emma says. Before Belle can blink, Emma is in front of her and plunging her hand into Belle’s chest and pulling out her heart. “If your love won’t awaken him,” she says, “perhaps your pain will.”

A pain unlike anything Belle has ever known radiates from her chest and through her body. She groans, strained and heavy, as her knees give out beneath her. She doesn’t even feel the rough stone cutting into her knees, focused as she is on the hot, bitter, deep pain radiating from her chest. Through it, her eyes remain open, fixated on where Rumple still lies dormant. Emma is standing over him, the red of her heart lighting his face with its proximity.

The seconds stretch for hours, as Emma carefully watches Rumple.

He does not move.

Emma growls, nearly crushing Belle’s heart in her frustration. “This should’ve worked,” she whispers. With a shout of rage and a sudden lunge, she jams Belle’s heart back into her chest.

Belle gasps in pain at the roughness, and clasps a hand over her chest protectively as Emma swoops away just as suddenly as she’d drawn close.

Emma is murmuring something under her breath, and Belle can’t quite make it out. All she knows is that the Dark One is angry, and she’s been on the receiving end of a Dark One’s ire enough to last several lifetimes. She scrambles backwards into the wall, the rough stone scratching at her palms as her heart flutters, settling back into her chest in a way that makes her feel short of breath.

She’s not eager to prod the beast any more than she has to, but Belle has had enough of letting the Dark One control her.

“They’ll find us, you know,” she says. “When they realize both Rumple and I are gone, they’ll figure out your plan.”

Emma laughs, sounding unhinged. “No, they’ll just think you’re missing. Him? I made a replica. Perfect projection magic. They won’t even know he’s gone until it’s too late.”

“There’s no such thing as too late,” Belle says. “Even for you.”

Emma laughs again. “Even for me? I don’t need your pity sympathy. I’ve already gotten enough of that to last a lifetime,” she finishes softly, contemplative.

Belle studies Emma in the silence that follows, trying to pick out differences between the Emma she knew and the one in front of her now. She’s still in her Storybrooke clothes, none of the extravagances of an Enchanted Forest Dark One. Her skin doesn’t bare the scaly glimmer that had been Rumplestiltsken’s signature, and her long blonde hair remained unchanged.

Although--

“I’ll be back,” Emma says suddenly. “Try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” she adds, and it’s almost like old Emma when she says it, light, with a hint of a smile.

Before Emma teleports away, Belle could swear she sees a streak of pure white through the pristine blonde.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The Dark One coalesces in a swirl of black and white smoke next to Zelena. Emma’s visit isn’t surprising, but still a bit unexpected.

The Wicked Witch had been pleased to find her farmhouse in the same condition that she’d left it in. A bit of dust here and there, but nothing her magic hadn’t been able to fix. She’d been idly wondering about setting up a nursery when the crackle of powerful magic caused her to turn to the resident Dark One-slash-Savior.

“The Dark Swan,” Zelena says. “To what do I owe this honor? I was under the impression that our deal was fulfilled.”

Emma seems to be only half-listening as she walks slowly around the room. The only outward reflection of the curse she holds is a wide streak of silver running down the left side of her hair, disrupting the golden curls. The silver streak, plus the distractingly powerful and confusing magic signature she’s giving off. Otherwise, she looks much the same as she ever did, sensible boots and jeans paired with a black leather jacket.

The Dark One does not cease her slow perusal of the living room.

“I know this isn’t a social call,” Zelena observes dryly. “What do you want?”

Emma half smiles. “Direct. I’ve always liked that,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “Tell me something,” she says, turning to face Zelena and coming to a standstill by the window. “How are your cravings?”

“What?”

“When I was pregnant with Henry, the only thing I wanted were jelly beans. The prison commissary had a cheap kind that were half way satisfying, but I couldn’t afford them most of the time.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Emma’s smile is thin. “If there’s anyone who can be sympathetic to being pregnant behind bars, it’s me.”

Zelena remembers Regina’s god awful eating restrictions and the way the mute janitor had secretly slipped her the children’s book against her sister’s orders and bristles. She doesn’t let it show, and she uses her magic to conjure a bag of onion rings and sits in an armchair. “Well, I’m not behind bars any longer, thanks you to.”

She takes a bite of one of the fried rings and sighs. Still hot, just the right amount of crispy. Sometimes her magical abilities truly still delight.

Emma cocks her head. “Can I have one?”

“Seriously?”

She shrugs, looking for all the world like she isn’t carrying evil incarnate inside of her. “I like onion rings.”

After a moment, Zelena holds the bag out. Emma steps forward, reaching carefully in and pulls one out. “Thank you,” she says, sounding genuine before she bites in.

Another moment of silence follows, the rustle of greasy paper filling the silence.

“I ask again, what is it that you want?”

“I’d like for us to be allies.”

“Allies?” Zelena says dubiously.

“At some point you’ll need one to protect your baby from Robin and Regina. They won’t just let the kid go without a fight.”

Zelena growls. “They won’t get to my child. I won’t let them.”

Emma scoffs. “Right, the same way you weren’t going to let Regina take your pendant when she beat you the first time?”

“The light magic caught me off guard,” Zelena acknowledges, “but it won’t happen again.” She eats another onion ring, her satisfaction sullied somewhat at the thought of Robin and Regina. Despite her confidence in her abilities, Emma isn’t exactly wrong. Regina has a team of heroes behind her. Zelena has no one. Or, perhaps one. “What exactly does me being allies with you look like?”

Emma just smiles, a secret, dark little smirk that does little to settle Zelena. “When I call, you answer.”

Zelena hates vagaries, unless she’s the one giving them. Dropping her onion rings to the coffee table and crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “I’m not your errand girl.”

Emma looks unconcerned. “You’re whatever I want you to be as long as you’re afraid of something.”

A fire roars up in Zelena. “I killed Neal,” she reminds. “I killed him and I loved every minute of it.”

Zelena expects anger, or forced stoicism concealing hidden menace. What she does not expect is a chuckle, a smile that looks almost genuine. “I should thank you for that.”

“I’m sorry?”

The smile drops off the Dark One’s face. “The kind of adult man who would get a seventeen year old girl pregnant and sent to prison for a crime she didn’t commit isn’t the type of man I ever want around my son. It took me a long time to realize that. Too long,” she finishes quietly.

Zelena pauses, thinking. “Your parents don’t know about this do they?” She laughs. “Oh this is rich; they even named their little whelp after him. Does your son know?”

Emma doesn’t answer but her grimace is visible. Zelena is pleased. The Dark One isn’t the only one with tricks, now.

Zelena raises her eyebrows tauntingly. “How awkward for you.”

The Dark One does not seem amused. “Consider my offer. You’ll want to take me up on it sooner rather than later.”

Zelena chuckles. “I think I see what this is now.”

“This?”

“The difference between you and me, Emma, is that I don’t mind being alone.”

Her expression remains as blank as ever, but Zelena can feel Emma’s darkness stirring and eclipsing the flagging light magic, inner anger and insecurity stoking an already chaotic fire.

Emma looks back at Zelena’s front door. “You’ll want to answer that,” is all she says before she teleports away in a swirl of black and white smoke.

A knock sounds through the house moments later.

* * *

 

Regina supposes she could’ve just teleported to her sister’s house, but the drive allows her to clear her head and gather her wits about her. She doesn’t quite know what to expect from this encounter but is hopeful Zelena’s condition will make her less likely to start a physical fight.

As she locks her Mercedes, taking her time in placing the keys in her pocket, she layers on her emotional armor that she wore for years as the Evil Queen, steps up to the door, and knocks.

A few moments past an awkward length of time, the door opens to reveal the Wicked Witch herself, dressed down from when Regina last saw her at the head of an army of flying monkeys.

Despite lack of black dresses and green gloves, Zelena still looks prepared for a battle. She opens the door just enough to lean her head and shoulders out. “Why are you here?” Her tone matches her posture, brittle and untrusting.

Regina sighs, eyes tilted up for a moment. “A lot of reasons,” she answers before shaking her head. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“I do mind, actually,” Zelena answers. “Why should I let you into my home?”

Regina fights back her annoyance. Along with the armor comes the Evil Queen’s sharp tongue, and she knows that won’t help the situation if she falls back into that persona. “Because we need to have a talk where we aren’t actively trying to kill each other.”

Zelena seems to consider slamming the door in Regina’s face for a few moments, but doesn’t move.

Regina tries again, “Despite…. everything, we’re sisters. And even if we weren’t, we’re family now in a way that can’t be undone.” She looks meaningfully at Zelena’s hidden stomach.

Mentioning the child changes Zelena. Where she once looked ready for battle, now she seems prepared for a siege. “This child is mine,” she snaps. “You and your pathetic thief of a lover will never touch them.”

Regina can’t stop the anger that courses through her. “If this is how it’s going to be--” A flick of her fingers sends Zelena stumbling back, the door listing backwards on its hinges. Regina strides into the house and closes the door behind her before Zelena can recover. “Thanks for inviting me in,” she comments dryly before venturing towards the kitchen.

“You bloody fucking bitch,” Zelena snarls, and Regina can feel her sister gathering magic, preparing a strike. Before it can come to fruition, Regina passes into the kitchen and casts a protection spell over the room.

Regina can hear the offensive spell fizzle out on the barrier before she even turns around. “Best protection spell I know that doesn’t include blood magic,” she explains. “You’re not getting me out of this house until I choose to leave.” The spell is completely transparent, but the magical sisters can feel the film of it as though it was an actual barrier between them.

Zelena looks ready to just knock the house down on top of Regina, but slowly her posture straightens, her fingers uncurl. Then she snorts a harsh laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

Regina summons one of the kitchen chairs and sits down facing the doorway. “Might want to pull up a chair,” she suggests.

Zelena’s mouth is slightly gaped, and Regina supposes it’s since she’s living up to her bloody fucking bitch reputation. Zelena doesn’t complain out loud, but every single bit of body language screams it as she copies Regina’s action, summoning one of her living room chairs and seating herself in it.

“So how is this going to work?” Zelena asks. “You want to hammer out a custody agreement. Will my refusal need to be in writing, or will a series of verbal insults work well enough for you?”

Regina’s temper flares. “I’m doing this for you. Believe me, it would be much, much easier to just cut you out of our lives once the baby is born. But you…” Regina takes a steeling breath. “You’re my sister, and you didn’t do half the things that I did. I’m no more deserving of a redemption than you are. All it took was Henry, and having that unconditional love in my life made me my best self.”

“You don’t want me,” Zelena sneers. “I’m just an inconvenience to you and your happiness with Robin. That’s all I will ever be to you.”

Regina’s lips righten. “Please don’t bring Robin into this right now. I’m trying very hard to forgive you, and the things you have done to him and his family aren’t making that easy for me.”

Zelena is silent--Regina hopes contemplative.

“I led a terribly lonely life as a child,” Regina begins, Zelena’s predictable scoff only spurring her onwards. “Our mother…” Regina struggles to conjure the proper words to describe Cora. She sighs. “Our mother was not a kind woman. She was manipulative and frightening and not afraid to use her magic to make sure I stayed in line. And I know that the family you ended up with wasn’t sunshine and roses either.”

“Is this supposed to make me like you?” Zelena asks. “Share our tragic childhoods and magically we’re the best of friends? Would you like for us to exchange stickers and braid each others’ hair? Please, Regina, you’re not that naive.”

“I’m not trying to fix everything between us. I’m trying to give you a reason to do better.”

“I don’t need my ‘better’ being measured by the heroes’ yardstick. I might have started this to hurt you, but this child is mine.”

Regina tenses. “No, they’re not. They also have a father.”

“Who clearly doesn’t want them.”

“Don’t you dare insinuate that Robin does not love his child,” Regina snaps. She softens, memory and sympathy rolling through her. “You know, we have a word for what you did to Robin in this land. Rape. In the Enchanted Forest, we didn’t have a term for it, it was just… done, and rarely with consequences.” Regina’s own tangled past with Graham makes it difficult for her to maintain her place on her high horse, but she also remembers being the barely-adult bride of a much older man. Doesn’t have to reach back that far to remember Robin’s difficulty sleeping since he came back to Storybrooke. (If there was nothing else that made her regret what she did to Graham, Robin’s suffering would’ve done it.)

Regina continues, “I don’t know if you can properly imagine what you are putting him through. He is so devoted to his children it takes my breath away. But here he is, torn between his love for his child and his hatred of you.” She wonders if she shouldn’t have revealed so much about Robin, but it’s already been said. She supposes that however they heal, it has to start with honesty.

“Robin wants sole custody,” Regina says, “and I’m not inclined to argue with him on that.”

Zelena shoots to her feet. “How could you? You’re a mother! How could you do that to me?”

“Right there is exactly why,” Regina responds, pointing an accusing finger at Zelena. “Because you’re only thinking about yourself. This will hurt you, but I’d rather it be you than your child.”

“Then it seems you’ve already decided. You’re going to take them away from me.”

“That’s why you’re going to do better,” Regina presses, “Not for me, not for yourself, but the child we won’t allow you to see until you drop this wicked charade and just be their mom.”

Zelena riles, tensing like a spring coiled. “This isn’t a charade. I just learned a long time ago that if you want any modicum of respect in this world, simpering and smiling won’t get it for you.”

“I understand that more than you know,” Regina says. “But there’s a difference between commanding respect and being cruel.”

“The way I see it, you can’t have one without the other.”

Regina squeezes her eyes shut, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “Look, what it comes down to is this: I’d rather take them away from you if it meant saving another child from an unfit mother.”

Zelena leans forward against the magical barrier between them. “Don’t you dare make this about you, Regina.”

“I can’t not make this about me, because you have entangled all of us in this goddamn web of yours, and you can’t ask me to divorce what Cora did to me from my decision making.”

“Mother left me,” Zelena hisses. “I would never leave my child.”

“At least you were spared from her.”

Zelena lets out an incredulous breath. “How much do you really know of my family? The family I ended up with after Cora left me to die?”

“Enough,” Regina says, but Zelena is already shaking her head.

“Clearly not if you think our mother leaving me spared me from anything.” She sits back down, as though all the wind has left her sails.

A heavy silence settles between them.

Regina feels a tug at her heart. “I’m sorry.” She may not have Emma’s superpower, but Zelena seems the most sincere she’s ever been.  “Neither one of us…” Regina sighs. “Neither one of us had the upbringing we might have deserved. And it helped put us on a path to doing terrible things. But we don’t have to keep following that same path. Like I said, once I had Henry--”

“It made you your best self,” Zelena finishes.

Regina smiles, just a little bit. “Yeah. But Henry wasn’t the only reason I was able to change. I also found a remarkable group of people who were willing to forgive me, and I think there’s a part of you that wants the same.”

“Maybe.” Zelena looks thoughtful, quiet. Her faces pinches for a moment, and she rubs a hand across her belly.

“Are you okay?”

Zelena nods. “Yeah, I’ve just been feeling a bit odd after I ate those onion rings. It’s nothing.” She continues, “I’m willing to… to try.”

Regina lets out a relieved breath. “That’s all I’m asking for,” she says, a genuine grin blooming across her face.

Zelena grimaces again, a strangled sound coming from her. Her hand goes once again to her stomach.

Regina rises. “Zelena?”

“I don’t underst-” A scream rips out of her throat as she bends forward in her chair.

“Oh god,” Regina takes the magical barrier down between them and crosses the threshold to her ailing sister. “Zelena, talk to me.”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Zelena cries, leaning back again, and Regina’s jaw drops.

Zelena is only a month into her pregnancy. Judging by the now-apparent curve to her belly, she’s got to be at least seven.

“What the hell,” Regina breathes.

Zelena grinds out another sound of pain. “Something is wrong. I’m--” She falls silent as another wave of pain goes through her.

Regina suddenly knows. A contraction. Zelena is having contractions.

“Hey,” Regina says firmly, “look at me.” She takes Zelena’s hand. “It’s going to be okay. You and the baby are going to be just fine.”

Zelena’s breathing is erratic and her eyes wildly panicked, but she nods at Regina’s sure words.

“I’m taking us to the hospital, all right?” She squeezes Zelena’s hand. “Don’t let go.”

The sisters are enveloped in a cloud of smoke, and within a moment, they are gone.

* * *

 

Considering that they have no idea how this happened, Zelena’s labor progressed without issue. Regina only let go of Zelena’s hand long enough to call Robin.

(“But it’s--it’s too early. It’s not even--”

“It got accelerated somehow but now she’s full term and having the baby, so you need to get here right now.”)

The labor itself was even accelerated, only lasting about two hours. And looking back, Regina realizes what an awkward two hours those really were. Robin, standing in the corner watching the woman he loves coaching the woman who raped him through the birth of his child (and assisted by Dr. Frankenstein himself, but that was neither here nor there.)

In truth, Regina had almost forgotten Robin was there at all until the baby’s cries announced her arrival into the world and Dr. Whale told them it’s a girl.

Robin had laughed a little in the corner, a relieved, quiet thing, and said, “A girl.”

“Is she okay?” Zelena had asked, frantic in that way all new mothers are. She stayed awake long enough for them to place her daughter on her chest, assure her that everything is okay, that Zelena herself is okay too, even though she might pass out from exhaustion given the magical strain of growing a full-term child in less than an hour.

In a few minutes, Zelena does just that; her hand had been curled over her daughter’s head, awe and shock and love in her eyes, and it slides away as she falls unconscious.

A nurse takes the baby so that she can be washed and wrapped and Regina steps backwards until her back collides with Robin’s chest. His arms automatically go around her waist and she turns into his embrace.

Regina is at a complete loss for words. There’s a maelstrom brewing in her heart, emotion making her uneasy and on edge. There’s only one person in Storybrooke who would’ve done something like this, and Dark Ones aren’t known to do things without a plan.

Emma has a plan for this baby, and if Regina knows anything about Dark Ones, no part of that plan is good.

“Does Dad want to hold her?” comes the voice of the nurse who had taken the baby, disrupting Regina’s thoughts. She’s wrapped up in a pink blanket, her puffy, red face peeking out.

“Yes,” Robin breathes. “Yes.” Regina steps away to give Robin free rein to take his daughter in his arms.

He holds her with the confidence and ease of someone who’s done this before but with all the reverence of a new parent. “Hello, my sweet,” he murmurs, and Regina’s heart melts, worries disappearing for a brief moment. His expression is blindingly happy, awestruck and humbled and thrilled and Regina has never seen anything like it on his face.

She wishes she could be that happy, but a shot of jealousy creeps into her belly.

_And then it hurts all over again because the experience of having a child is what I always imagined having with you._

He looks up at Regina, and she forces a smile onto her face. “I have a daughter,” he says--whispers, really, a stunned, reverent thing that matches his expression.

“She’s beautiful,” Regina replies softly. Regina reaches out hesitantly, not really sure what her end goal is. She ends up placing a hand on Robin’s arm and squeezing.

Regina feels the prickle of powerful magic creep up the back of her neck and raise the hair on her arms the split second before a swirling storm of black and white smoke coalesces in the middle of the hospital room.

Zelena, even unconscious, must have felt it, because she lets out a soft moan and shifts on the bed.

“Get behind me,” Regina orders Robin tersely. He follows her directive immediately and cradles his daughter closer to his chest, almost tucking her into his jacket.

Her own magic sizzles in her palms as the teleportation spell dissipates and the former Savior is revealed.

She looks--remarkably like Emma. If it weren’t for the new white streaks running through her hair, then she could pass as being the same old sheriff of Storybrooke. When she turns her gaze on Regina, any semblance of familiarity seems to dry up.

Emma smiles, almost; it’s more of a sneer, a gleeful little expression of twisted delight that Regina most certainly recognizes.

“Hello, Regina,” she says. And it’s-- it’s not Emma.

It hurts more than Regina could have ever anticipated.

“You’re not getting your hands on this baby,” Regina replies.

Emma smiles again, this time like a parent whose child refuses to understand. “Oh I don’t need her.” She laughs. “That is, unless her mother doesn’t cooperate. Then I might need her. Oh, Zelena,” she singsongs. “Time to wake up.” A snap of her fingers, and Regina feels a jolt of magic run through the room. Zelena bursts awake with a gasping breath.

“There she is,” Emma says. “Now, I need you to come with me. And no one else will have to get involved.”

Zelena’s eyes are panicked as they flick between Emma and where Regina stands between her and Robin and the baby. “But you said that I’d get to keep her,” Zelena says. “You said that if I helped you, I would get to keep my baby.”

Emma just keeps smiling. “Yes. If you help me.”

Zelena’s panic settles into determination, mingled with some white hot anger. “Fine.”

“Wonderful,” Emma says, and with a flick of her wrist and a swirl of black and white smoke, both she and Zelena are gone.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Belle sits across the cavern from the comatose Rumple.

Once upon a time, she might have thought that she did love him truly enough to break any curse. She supposes she should’ve always known--they’d married and in any of their kisses, she’d never managed to free him from the Dark One curse. She’d poured everything she had into their relationship, poured everything she had in her heart and soul into making him a better man and it--

It never worked.

“Maybe I should’ve just accepted that I was never going to fix you,” she says, and then laughs, harsh and self-deprecating. “Listen to me. Talking about fixing you. As though that’s…”

She sighs again. “We were never meant to be, were we? How many good relationships you know of start with a kidnapping? Or, well, technically more of a hostage situation. And then everything with the Queens of Darkness? It was bad enough that you lied to me about the dagger and then you tried to kill someone I consider a friend. I didn’t even recognize you anymore. You became more obsessed with your power than… than anything and I can’t…” She closes her eyes and tips her head back against the wall. “I was afraid of my own husband. I was afraid of what you would do to me, what you would do to Will, what you would do to any of our friends. What kind of life is that?

“And now you don’t have it. The curse is gone, and for years that’s all I ever wanted.” Even though there’s no chance he can answer, she can’t look at him as she says, “But even though I know that, I’m still afraid of you. I’m afraid of what you’ll do without it, of who you’ll become trying to get it back. All these years I could just… blame it on the curse. That there was a good man beneath it all. But there’s--” She breaks off when her voice shakes, tears threatening her eyes. “I don’t think I want to know what the man underneath the curse is like anymore.”

“Heartbreaking,” says Emma and Belle nearly leaps out of her skin. She hadn’t heard her captor return, and she scrambles to her feet so that she can retain some sense of her dignity and turns to face her.

She gasps when she sees that Emma has brought a visitor.

Zelena, dressed in a thin hospital gown and looking for all the world like she’s beyond exhausted but still willing to fight tooth and nail, is on her knees next to the Dark One.

The Wicked Witch growls, “I’m here. So what do you need me for?”

Emma takes a few contemplative paces around the space. Belle swears she feels the temperature drop as Emma walks past her, a study in serenity, and it makes Belle feel sick to her stomach for what must be coming.

Finally pausing over Rumplestiltsken’s prone form, Emma speaks. “As a student of magic, Zelena, what would you say is wrong with this man?” She turns to face Zelena, a teacher awaiting answer.

“Are you kidding me? You dragged me out of my hospital bed and away from my daughter for a little bit of magic consultation?”

Daughter? Belle thinks. Zelena was only one or two months pregnant, last Belle knew. What could’ve--

Belle bites down on her tongue when she realizes. Emma must’ve sped it up. An image of the Dark One’s plan begins to shape in Belle’s mind against her will. She doesn’t want to imagine how this will end, doesn’t want to imagine how Emma is going to get Zelena to cooperate, can’t--

“I’ll drag you out of wherever whenever I please,” Emma replies harshly. “Now tell me. Why isn’t Rumplestiltsken waking up?”

Zelena still looks annoyed, but she gingerly lifts herself off the floor and limps over to where Rumple lies on the stone.

The way Zelena looks over him looks almost medical, checking his eyes and pulse, save for a faint glow in the palms of her hands. Her mouth purses in frustration--she clearly didn’t find what she’d expected to. Then she places a hand over his forehead, tilting her face downwards and closing her eyes. The light in her palm changes to purple, glowing bright for a half a second before it fades.

“It’s like he’s not even there,” Zelena says quietly, almost in wonder. When she realizes she’s spoken aloud, she turns to Emma, who waits expectantly.

“I tried to find his consciousness,” Zelena explains. “The essence of being, the spark of life. Name your metaphor. But it’s like there’s nothing knocking around in there anymore. Just empty brain activity.”

Belle’s heart wrenches.

Emma doesn’t seem surprised, and asks, “That’s because he’s here,” she says, tapping her temple. “All the past Dark Ones are.”

Zelena’s brows furrow. “Then why did you bring me here if you already know what’s wrong with him?”

“I need him awake,” Emma answers, matter-of-fact.

“Well I can’t do that,” Zelena answers in frustration. “I can’t just magic his consciousness back into his body--”

Emma cuts her off with a laugh. “That’s not what I need you for.”

“Bloody hell, then stop speaking in goddamn riddles and just tell me so I can go back to my daughter.”

Emma tilts her head to the side, studying Zelena. “If you think about it for a moment, I’m sure you’ll get it.”

But Belle understands what she wants first. “She wants to swap your life for his,” she says, the realization of what Emma has planned starting to dawn on her. “That’s why she accelerated your pregnancy. A life for a life, isn’t that right, Emma? Just like the spell Snow used to kill Cora.”

Emma smiles. “I knew Rumple kept you around for more than just a plaything.”

Belle recognizes it for what it is--a carefully placed barb meant to shut her up--but her angry reply is only cut off by Zelena’s outraged, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” Emma assures. “Being the Dark One wasn’t exactly in my life plans, but now that I have it, I’m seeing a much clearer path to what I want. And what I want is for you to die.”

“But you said I’d get to keep my daughter!”

Emma shrugs. “Unlike the last Dark One, I’m not much for contracts.”

“You can’t make me do this,” Zelena says, and suddenly hurls a ball of green energy at Emma.

The Dark One looks unconcerned, redirecting the blast at the wall of the cavern. The impact shakes the walls, and Belle looks up at the ceiling, praying it doesn’t come down on them.

Zelena growls, and releases a barrage of green offensive spells that Emma deflects much like before. Belle has only had a passing familiarity with Emma’s magical abilities before, but this still looks beyond any of the skills she’d possessed as the Savior. Either being the Dark One has fully granted her several lifetimes-worth of new knowledge, or someone’s been teaching her (but Belle can’t possibly imagine who that could be.)

“That’s enough!” Emma eventually shouts, and lets loose a blast of black and white magic that makes the hair on the back of Belle’s neck stand on end. It forces Zelena back against the wall and holds her there.

Even immobilized, the fight doesn’t go out of Zelena. The tendons in her neck press hard against her skin, her jaw clenches as she leans against the invisible force pinning her down.

“You can’t make me do this,” she growls.

Emma still looks unconcerned. “I won’t be forcing you to do anything.”

That makes Zelena pause, confusion flickering across her face.

The Dark One examines her nails and says, “I need an untainted heart willingly given,” she says. “So I have two options. One, revive Rumplestiltsken and take his. All scrubbed clean. My second option,” she strides towards Zelena slowly, purposefully, “is your daughter’s heart.”

Zelena’s face goes white. Belle feels as though a knife has pierced her chest.

“What?” Zelena chokes out.

Emma simply stares.

“You--you…. You wouldn’t do that,” Zelena stammers. “She’s just a baby.”

“Exactly. Her heart would serve just as well as Rumplestiltsken’s. You simply get to decide which one I use.”

“They--Regina will protect her,” Zelena says. “They won’t let you get her.”

Emma snorts a soft laugh. “Just like you just tried to?”

A tear slides down Zelena’s cheek. “I didn’t even--” she breaks off in a breathy sob. “I didn’t even get to hold her.”

Belle looks at Emma, denial running through her. Emma wouldn’t do this. Emma would never. Emma is the Savior, even being the Dark One couldn’t possibly erase all that, it’s not--

“And if you don’t do this, no one ever will.”

Tears fall freely from Zelena’s eyes now. All the fight and bluster she’d had goes out of her all at once, her body sagging against the magical bonds. Softly, shakily, she says, “You’re a monster.”

The Dark One smiles. “Only on the inside.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The small placard on the open crib reads “Baby Girl Hood” and that alone is enough to make Regina smile, at least a little.

She is smaller than Henry was. Face puffier, skin still red and little eyes nearly swollen shut. She’s managed to free her hands from her swaddling, small fingers grasping around nothing and Regina reaches down on impulse. Her breath catches when little fingers wrap around one of hers, and she can’t stop staring at those tiny little fingernails. The little one opens her mouth, a yawn (maybe her first) and Regina can’t help but melt at the little squeak that comes from her mouth. It’s when she lets go and her face pinches up that Regina knows what’s coming. She’s been a mother for far too long to not know what the little pants mean, that they’re slowly going to build into whimpers, then cries, so she moves on instinct, picking her up and cradling her in close.

When she got Henry, he was old enough that he could support his own head, but she’d done enough reading going through the adoption process that she knows exactly what to do. Robin’s daughter squirms just the slightest bit before Regina tucks her in closer, whispering, “It’s okay, little one. No need for that, now.” She frees up one of her hands, letting the baby grasp her pinky with her newborn strength. Regina gives into the temptation to gently stroke the little girl’s cheek, and her baby soft skin is warm against her fingertips.

“That’s a good look on you,” she hears quietly from the doorway, and she startles slightly, but not for long because she knows Robin’s voice anywhere. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

“It’s fine. Usually people can’t sneak up on me.”

“I am very skilled at sneaking.”

She smiles. “I know, Mr. Thief.”

“And,” he adds gently, warmly, “you seemed a bit distracted.”

She looks back down at the baby in her arms, then back at Robin. “She’s beautiful.”

She can hear the pride in his voice when he answers, “I know.”

“Have you thought of any names yet?” she asks. She can hardly keep calling her ‘little one.’

He scratches the back of his neck, mussing his hair as he says sheepishly, “Not in the slightest. I’m afraid that one of the few advantages of pregnancies being nine months is that you’ve nine months to decide on a name. I was hoping you might have some suggestions.”

“Me?”

“Of course, you.”

“I--I just… I didn’t expect…” She looks down at the infant in her arms, suddenly feeling all sorts of things for this child that isn’t hers. (But she’s been down that road before, and she knows where it got her.)

“You’re going to be a part of her life, Regina,” he says, and adds, far less certain, “That is, if… if you want to be.”

“I do,” she answers. The little one yawns again, but she seems very content to stay where she is in Regina’s arms. She laughs a little then, looking back at Robin, “I thought we would have more time to talk about this. Now she’s here, and we’ve barely had time to sit down and talk to each other.”

“We have been a bit busy,” he says with that understanding smile, “What with the new Dark One and all.”

“Speaking of, are there any leads on where Emma may have taken Zelena? And has there been any sign of Belle?”

His lips tighten, so slight and unnoticeable that she would’ve missed it if she didn’t know him so well. “There are groups in the woods and in the mines, but so far there’s been no luck. Ruby and Hook returned to ask Emrys about a locator spell, but wherever they are being held, they’re hidden from that magic.”

Regina exhales, coming to a decision and setting Robin’s daughter back in the open crib. They need to do this sooner or later, and she’d rather not have a baby in her arms for it. “We need to talk about her. Zelena.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes going angry, and she hates what this is doing to him, but there’s no more putting it off. “Then perhaps we should take this somewhere more private.”

They don’t go far. Despite Emma’s claim that she didn’t need her, Regina isn’t comfortable leaving the child with no protection. (She casts a protection spell over the nursery doorway to keep anyone with bad intentions out just in case.) The deserted hospital corridor affords them a sightline on the viewing window, but is far enough that they wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Robin clearly doesn’t intend to start this conversation which bristles her just a little bit. This is his daughter’s future they are considering. “I know you don’t like talking about what Zelena did to you--”

“Damn right I don’t.”

Regina breathes in. Out. Tries to not think of the consequences of what she’s about to suggest. “But I’d like to give her visitation rights.”

Robin snaps immediately to attention, going completely still. “I’m sorry? I don’t think I quite got that. You’d like to <i>what</i>?”

“I’d like to give her visitation rights,” she says again. “Heavily monitored by one or both of us. We’ll set up wards so that she can’t teleport away. I’ll layer as many protection spells as I can to make sure you feel safe--”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, not sounding sorry in the least, “I’m sure you have a very detailed plan, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that you would give Zelena visitation to my daughter. That you would make me hand her over to that bloody witch at all.” His voice is rising, and Regina can feel her own temper starting to flare. “I don’t care how many protection spells are between me and her. I don’t care if there’s a hundred foot thick stone wall between us, or if she’s in a damned different realm. I can’t forgive what she did to my family. I can’t forgive that for a while, Roland thought he had his mother back. I can’t forgive that I had to give my own son a forgetting potion because not remembering would be less painful than the reality. And I know I can’t…” His voice drops out, posture withdrawing. “I can’t face her every week for the rest of my life. I can’t do that, Regina.”

“Then I won’t make you face her. I’ll handle everything.”

That makes him snap again, “See, you don’t get it. No matter what happens, she’s always going to be in my life if we do this. I’m always going to have to hand my daughter over to you to go and give to <i>her.</i> She’s always going to be on the periphery of my life, reminding me of what happened, and I’m not--” Robin’s breath catches, just the slightest bit, and she wants so badly to reach out to him. “I’m not strong enough to face that. No distance you could put between us would make what she did any easier for me to deal with.”

“Robin, she deserves a chance to be good.”

“She’s had a chance to be good. You’ve given her more second chances than anyone deserves. I don’t know how anyone can call you the Evil Queen anymore because this is damn well near <i>sainthood.</i>”

“You don’t understand--”

“What I <i>understand</i> is that Zelena murdered my wife, masqueraded as her for months in order to--” he cuts himself off painfully. His voice picks up again a few moments later, cold. “I had to live with her for months. I had to share my bed with a woman who deceived me to get there. I understand that you want to give her another chance. It’s because I understand that I am so bloody angry. I don’t want her near my daughter, I don’t want her near my family, I don’t want her near me.”

“Everything you’ve accused her of, I’ve done doubly worse. She murdered your wife? So did I in some alternate world before Emma and the pirate messed it up. She manipulated and used you? I couldn’t even give you the names of all the people I’ve done that to. I have murdered, I have tortured, I have cast curses that would make the darkest of souls quiver in their boots. She might be wicked, but wicked’s got <i>nothing</i> on evil.”

“She is not you, Regina. She does not have a good heart.”

“You’ve seen my heart. It’s not good.”

“No amount of blackness I’ve seen can change what I see in you, what Roland sees in you, what your son sees in you. But her?” he spits, “She’s said it herself, time and time again. She’s wicked and she’s no intention of changing. Even if she had, I’d want no part in it. And I certainly don’t want my daughter to be a part of it, either.”

“Robin, can you--”

He holds up a hand, and she can see his eyes close, his breathing coming slow and heavy. “Regina, I can’t right now. I’d rather not say something I’d regret.” Then he turns and paces back towards the room. Back towards his daughter.

Regina swallows heavily and lets him go.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Emma always told me you have rum,” Regina says on approach.

“Lovely to see you too, Madame Mayor.”

“Shut up. Do you have any or not?”

Hook stares hard at her for a moment, a quirk in his brow before he removes a flask from his jacket. “And here I thought you ‘didn’t do rum.’ Any particular reason you’re seeking out my liquor?”

“It’s 2 in the afternoon on a Sunday. I might have created this town, but our liquor stores are still closed, and I’m not going to show my face at the Rabbit Hole.” She snatches the flask out of his hand, unscrews the cap, and takes a long pull.

She knows how to handle her liquor, but she struggles to not make a face. Hook must notice anyway. “Bit stronger than your usual?”

“I prefer whiskey,” she says, and the sour mood that particular statement brings prompts her to tilt the flask back for another long drink.

“This about your quandary with your sister and Robin?”

She shouldn’t answer. She owes him nothing, yet she nods anyway.

“I heard the little lass was born. I feel like I should extend some sort of congratulations to you.”

“Why?”

“Well, you and Robin are going to raise the child, are you not?”

“We--we talked about it. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“The due date being moved up eight months didn’t leave much time for that. Besides, there’s not much down time when the resident Savior has become the Dark One. But we… talked today. I want to give Zelena at least some sort of visitation.”

“And how does your beloved feel about that?”

“Not as enthusiastic.”

“Well, you’re far more charitable than I, love. Had someone done to Emma what Zelena did to Robin I would have no qualms disemboweling them with my hook.”

Regina could laugh, but drinks instead. “She’s got nothing on me.”

“I’d heard the queen entertained unwilling bedfellows.”

Regina’s blood goes icy, her jaw clenching. “Just one. I’m not proud of it. You’re a pirate, I can’t imagine you haven’t done the same.”

“Much as it may surprise you to hear, no. Even at my worst, I believed in good form. Didn’t always uphold that in my quest for revenge, but in that way I did. And quite frankly, with a face like this it was hardly a fight to find company.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “And you wonder why I don’t want you giving my son advice on girls.”

“No, I don’t wonder at all,” he answers, surprisingly quick. “I admit, that you allow him near me at all is somewhat of a surprise.”

“He likes you. And it would be hypocritical of me to call him my son if I wouldn’t let him be around you. I’m sure my body count is higher than yours.”

“Wouldn’t want to wager money on it. I have been around for several centuries longer than you, love, but I see your point.”

She takes another drink before she says, “That’s why I feel like I can’t keep Robin’s daughter away from Zelena. Since when did I become righteous enough to decide who gets a shot at redemption?”

“Regina,” Hook says in a teasing tone. “Are you asking for my advice?”

“I don’t ask for advice,” she shoots back. The alcohol is making her warm, and she can feel it swimming in her brain and eyes, but she’s far from drunk. It’s exactly what she came here for. “Why am I even talking to you?” she mutters and moves to turn away.

“Because in our little band of heroes, I’m the only other villain,” he says simply.

That stops her. Her fingers tighten around his flask.

“Unless you count the Crocodile, which I sincerely doubt.” She doesn’t turn back, but he keeps speaking. “No matter how much good you do, no matter how hard you try, you still wonder if they have as much faith in you as you do in them.”

She turns back to him then. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” A pause, and it’s probably the alcohol that prompts her to say, “All of them love you. They keep you around even when they don’t need you.”

Hook responds, “Emma’s family has offered me far more charity than I deserve, something I’ll forever be grateful for, but don’t count yourself out. They all care very much about you.”

She holds back a scoff. “Maybe.”

He looks like he wants to say something else on the subject, but instead says, “Look, regardless of your apparent desire to wheedle away your afternoon drinking my alcohol, you came here for my advice and I’m going to give it to you.” She notices him turning his gaudy rings with his thumb. “It was only when I met Emma that I felt I was worthy of redemption. Because she saw someone worthwhile in me, I realized that I might be able to one day see what she saw. It feels like all your sins can be forgiven when someone loves you, and feeling like that… It’s like feeling the sun on your skin for the first time in centuries.”

Regina nods in understanding. “I know.”

“I never dared to expect that she would love me back.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I certainly hoped, and after Neverland it seemed…” He shakes himself out of some sort of reverie. “It was the first time I’d hoped for something good in centuries. That’s a powerful thing.”

“I don’t think Robin will ever see it that way.”

“I don’t expect he will. I should clarify, I’m on his side of this.”

“After what you just told me, how can you say that?”

“Our situations vary vastly from your sister’s. Zelena doesn’t want to change. She wants someone that will have no choice but to love her despite whatever villainous path she takes, and I’ve no sympathy for parents like that.”

“Because of what your father did to you?”

He ignores her prod and says, “Parents are supposed to protect their children, to hell and back. The only thing I can see Zelena protecting is herself.”

Regina holds the flask out to Hook, and he shakes his head. “I’m not imbibing today, thank you.”

She silently watches as he carefully keeps his eyes forward, notices the way his fingernails scrape across the top of the dock barrier and the muscle tic in his jaw. She can feel the significance of his answer, and screws the cap back into place. “Want it back?”

He nods wordlessly, still not looking at the flask as he stuffs it back into his jacket.

They simply stand in quiet companionship, listening to the churning waves. It feels like it’s been so long since Regina has felt like she hasn’t needed to be anywhere, or protect someone, or prove herself, or confront the painful reality that is her life. She never thought she’d find this sort of solace with the pirate, but life has never gone completely as expected for Regina Mills.

“Thank you, Killian,” Regina says simply. She’s fairly certain none of this would be happening without his rum loosening her tongue, but she doesn’t regret the catharsis.

He laughs, not at all what she was expecting. She turns, seeing that he’s wearing a pleasantly surprised grin, a complete reversal from earlier. “What, no ‘Captain Guyliner?’ No ‘One Hand Wonder?’ Where are the bon mots tonight?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be an ass. Let me thank you and we’ll just be done with it.”

“Fine, then. You’re more than welcome, Regina.”

She feels like she could laugh at the sheer force of sass he manages to put behind the words, and his sincerity makes it break free.

It’s been too long since she’s laughed like this. No matter how short lived it will be, Regina relishes every moment.

And short lived it is; a minute later, both Regina and Killian turn towards the sound of running feet pounding against the pier. It’s Ruby, slightly breathless and with her eyes fixed on Regina. “Zelena was spotted in the woods. It looked like she was heading for the wishing well.”

Regina turns back to Killian, panic in her eyes and urgency opening up a chasm in her stomach.

“Go,” he says. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ruby says to Regina. “She might know where Emma is holding Belle.”

Regina has no desire to waste time talking the wolf out of it, so without fanfare, she grabs Ruby’s arm and envelops them in magic.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

When they coalesce near the well, and Regina can feel the weight of dark magic over the small clearing. Zelena stands next to the stone structure, her hands held over the mouth as though she were conjuring something. It looks like she already has--a blue light emanates up from the well, lighting Zelena’s features. She looks distraught, her eyes swollen and face drawn and pale, and she looks up in surprise when the two figures materialize in front of her.

“Regina?”

“Zelena, what are you doing?” Regina asks as she steps towards her sister, motioning for Ruby to hang back.

“Stop!” she shouts, and Regina freezes. “This magic is hard to control. I don’t want you to--” Zelena seems to cut herself off when she realizes what she was about to say.

Regina takes a moment to try to decipher what sort of spell Zelena has performed. It looks unfamiliar to her, and while she can feel some sort of transference magic in it, it’s beyond anything she’s ever seen. It feels old. It feels ancient and powerful and almost malicious, and Regina wants her sister away from it  _now_.

Ruby asks, “How did you get away from Emma?”

Zelena laughs. “She let me go.”

“Why on Earth would she--” Regina starts but Zelena doesn’t let her finish.

“Because she needs me to die,” she says flatly. “She gave me this enchantment because she needs Rumplestiltsken awake for her own goddamn spell, and she’s keeping Belle as leverage--”

“Where?” Ruby demands, stepping even with Regina. “Where is she keeping Belle?”

“Ruby--” Regina says, but is cut off again.

“No, she’s been through enough because of goddamned Dark Ones. Where the hell is she?”

“I didn’t exactly get the grand tour,” Zelena says sharply. She winces when a tendril of the spell leaps out, licking at her hand. “If I had to guess, somewhere in the mines. An offshooting cavern of some kind. There was a protection spell over it, so you probably won’t find it until Emma wants you to.”

“I don’t care,” Ruby replies, and she morphs from woman to wolf in a blink. The massive werewolf doesn’t spare a second glance at the sisters and bolts to the west, towards the nearest entrance to the mines she can find, Regina imagines.

A heavy silence settles over them for a few moments.

It’s broken by a thin chuckle from Zelena. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined I’d earn my Best Heroics Girl Scout badge.”

“Why are you doing this Zelena? What could Emma have possibly done to make you decide to give yourself up for that man’s life?”

Zelena’s answer is prompt and straightforward. “She threatened my daughter.”

“She what?”

Zelena looks down at the spell at the well’s mouth, the incandescence of it shining off her face. “She said that she needed an untainted heart willingly given.”

Regina knows enough magic theory to understand the context of the threat. She feels like she could vomit.

“Emma would never--”

“Yeah, well, she’s not exactly just Emma anymore, is she? And you and I have plenty of experience with the last Dark One to know exactly what they’re capable of when they want something.”

Regina’s mind reels. “So we--we protect her. We’ll take her out of town, or we can ask the fairies and the Knights of the Round Table to help us. Emrys has strong light magic, maybe even as strong as Emma’s, and I trained her. How much does she know that I can’t counter--”

“And that’s all well and good, but have you considered that she’s more powerful than any protective measure you can conjure? Who knows if the town line is even open to cross anymore, and the remaining fairies are so weak any sorceress with half a month of training could cut them down. We know nothing about this Emrys bloke, and you? Regina, you’re talented, but I threw everything I had at her and she didn’t even--” Zelena breaks off in a self-deprecating scoff. “She didn’t even flinch.” A heavy beat. “This is the only way.”

“Zelena, it doesn’t have to end like this. We can find another way, it’ll just take some time--”

“Time that we don’t have,” she snaps. “With my daughter on the line, I’m not willing to risk it.” Zelena looks down at the well again, the spell crackling away under her palms. She closes her eyes and says, “What you said about redemption--” she looks up to meet Regina’s gaze. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did,” Regina replies, voice thin and eyes burning. More words of hope are on Regina’s lips, possible solutions whirling through her head faster than she could truly comprehend, but Zelena sees this and interrupts her.

“I need to do this. If the choice is that she lives and I don’t…” The rest remains unspoken. It’s a quiet understanding between mothers, and it’s not in Regina’s nature anymore to give up, to submit, to accept defeat, but this isn’t something that she can fight against. She knows that if Henry were the one in danger, Regina would be doing the exact same thing.

“Just make sure she remembers me?” Zelena says, a tear trailing down her cheek. “When she gets old enough, tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Tell her I love her no matter what.”

Regina can only nod as her own tears start to fall.

“And…. And I want you to tell Robin that I’m sorry. He didn’t deserve….” She swallows heavily. “Just tell him?”

“I will.”

A long, heavy pause precedes Zelena’s final request. “I want her to have a mum.”

That startles Regina.

Zelena just nods. “I want her to have a real, proper mum who will love her and--and make her sweets and give her advice and show her how to use her magic if she has it and--and….” She meets Regina’s eyes again, more urgency in this appeal than any of her others. “Give her what we never had.”

Regina will never remember what her response was. Years later, when she thinks back on this moment, she will remember saying  _something_ , remember Zelena’s resolute nod.

They never said  _I love you_ , that Regina knows. It wasn’t the right time for it, too soon, their last conversations not doing enough to stitch together all the raw and gaping wounds they’d caused each other in the years of their acquaintance. And while it hadn’t been enough it was still--

It was still something. It was the promise of more. It was a small spark that could painstakingly grow out of the darkness if they just tried.

Later, when Regina makes her peace with that day at the well, after she makes her peace with Emma for being responsible for Zelena’s death, she’ll be able to appreciate that.

But at that moment as Regina watches her sister, the last living member of her family, plunge her hands into the shimmering blue web of the spell, she does not feel peace or relief. It’s effect is nearly instantaneous, the spell running up her arms and over her body like an electric shock before withdrawing back into the opening and down into the depths of the earth.

A shockwave pulses from the well, a clear, magical tremor that Regina hardly notices as she runs to her sister’s side, catching her before she hits the ground.

At that moment, Regina watches that spark fade before her eyes.

At that moment, the profound feeling of loss carving a canyon in her chest is filled with the familiar river of rage.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Emma feels the moment Zelena dies--Rumplestiltsken’s consciousness is plucked out of the thousands of lives within the Dark One and within one breath and the next, his body reanimates in front of her.

She hears Belle’s quiet gasp of shock behind her but ignores her entirely.

His eyes flicker open, confusion written across his face.

Emma smiles down at him.

“I’ve been waiting for this.”


End file.
